Done Pretending
by solveariddle
Summary: Gillian changes after Claire's death and Cal realizes that if he doesn't want to lose her, he has to stop pretending and start acting upon his feelings before it is too late.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I had the idea for this story months ago, but my muse never co-operated enough to actually write it down. Eventually, though, we made peace and here it is. Will be multi-chaptered. Set some time after the show ended. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** What do you want to hear? No, as much as I want to, I don't own LTM. Not now, not ever. Otherwise, this would be the beginning of Season Four.

* * *

Life is not made of _what ifs_. Life is yes or no, do or omit, win or lose. Life is never maybe. _Maybe_ is a life on hold. A life that is waiting to be lived. Sometimes, though, it is necessary to live with a what if, with a maybe, for a while because the right moment, the moment that is worth waiting for, isn't there yet. And until this moment occurs, you have to pretend.

* * *

It was a weird case. Their client is dead. He hired them prior to his death. Suffering from a terminal disease, he knew that he would die and payed in advance for his last wish, so to speak. They had to do their job within the 24 hours after his death had been confirmed by a doctor and before the testament will be read because there are two versions of the testament and the version that is going to be read later today depends on the results of their observations.

Widow and son of their deceased client are going to be his heirs based on what they determined. It was the classical story. A rich, old man and a young, pretty wife. Not his first wife, not even his second. One of many to come and go as time passed by and their client became older and richer until death was knocking on his door. Despite his own excessive lifestyle, their client wanted to make sure that there was nothing going on behind his back. Something between his latest wife and his son of one of his former marriages, to be exact, who are about the same age. That would have excluded them from getting anything; his whole heritage would have gone to charitable institutions.

They had only this one chance to talk to son and wife or rather widow. The lawyer of the family informed the bereaved to be ready for an interview. Since Cal and Gillian had known that moment would come, they were prepared and brought the best knowledge and experience The Lightman Group had to offer, meaning that all four of them went – Torres, Loker, Cal and Gillian – so that they could work in pairs, interviewing son and widow separately.

It didn't take them long to find out that there hadn't been an affair. It also didn't take them long to realize that even if there hadn't been an affair as yet, there probably will be one soon. There is definitely an attraction between widow and step-son. They just pretended there wasn't. And to be honest, they pretended rather badly. Their job wasn't about finding out what someone pretended, though, but only about the facts. No affair prior to their clients death means that they will be his heirs. Everything else is irrelevant.

They are on the way to their cars. Loker and Torres took a separate car because they will stop at another client on their way back to the office. They are some steps behind Cal and Gillian within earshot.

"It was so obvious," Ria laughs. "This guy has the hots for his step-mother. Ugh, this is weird." Torres interviewed the son together with Cal while Gillian and Loker were interviewing the wife.

"Not if the step-mother looks like this," Loker smirks.

"But can you imagine pretending not to feel anything for years?" Ria insists agitated. "Or at least acting as if you don't feel anything? I can't."

There is a sudden, awkward pause and Cal can literally feel their stares at the back of his neck. _Pretending not to feel anything..._ _Acting as if you don't feel anything... Well, congratulations, Torres, that was a little too close to home._ Of course, Eli and Ria realized the similarities the moment she said it. Cal glances at Gillian but aside from an almost imperceptible quirk she shows no reaction. It is not the first time that he wonders whether she actually is unaware of his feelings. If she is, she is the only one. His own daughter kind of forced him to admit his feelings for Gillian some months ago although he still owes her an answer why he doesn't act upon it or tell her. And Loker and Torres obviously know, too. The current, awkward pause is enough unwelcome proof.

"No, I can't either," Eli eventually admits because it would be even more awkward to not answer Ria's question.

They have reached their cars and Loker and Torres get in and away before Cal or Gillian even have a chance to say goodbye or at least wave at them.

It's late summer, but fall is already announcing itself with falling leaves and shorter days. The sun is low, shining a soft light on Gillian's face when she opens the passenger door to get in. Cal hasn't changed his habit to check her out blatantly. It is moments like this, though, that cut deeply into his soul. When her natural beauty strikes a chord in him so that he can't deny the truth. And in this brief moment, while looking at her and feeling the cold air of the approaching evening on his skin, Cal realizes that he can't bear the weight of what seems to be a lifetime of denial any longer, that he doesn't want to pretend any longer. Not one second.

* * *

Cal is driving and Gillian is looking out of the window. It's like that a lot lately. She used to be the one to talk and laugh or rebuke him but not anymore. For a while, Cal had been thinking they were back to normal. As normal as life can be after Claire's death and what Gillian experienced. Then Gillian started to distance herself from him. She still talks to him, still laughs and even still rebukes him if necessary (and that means on a daily basis). Nonetheless, it feels differently as if her heart is not really in it. Cal is pretty sure that she is not depressed, that she actually coped with Claire's death. Somehow, this makes it even worse because he doesn't know the reasons for her behavior and his own bewilderment hinders him from asking her what is going on. She knows how to outsmart him, has perfected her technique over the years so that he didn't notice it in the beginning. These days, though, the distance between them is a constant companion and painful reminder of what used to be and is missing now.

They have to stop at a traffic light and Cal turns to look at her. She is still watching something outside or maybe she is watching nothing and rather dwelling on her thoughts. He would give his right arm to be able to actually hear her thoughts. Her head is slightly tilted to the side and he sees her carotid artery pulsate softly. Memories how he found her after Claire had been murdered, her hands and shirt covered in blood, are brought back and the urge to reach out and touch her skin, feel that she is alive, is almost overwhelming. _I'm going to lose her. _The thought is there in his head out of nowhere, but it takes his breath away because he knows it is the truth. The memory most likely triggered this realization. When he saw her after the murder, he was afraid that it was her blood, that she was wounded and that he would lose her. And now, after all they've been through, he is afraid he might lose her either way. He may have decided that he is done pretending. That doesn't mean, though, that she will agree or even listen to him. However, he has to try.

Just when the lights go green, Gillian seems to sense his glance and turns to look at him. Well, maybe there still is an invisible connection between them after all.

"Why do you think they denied their feelings?" he asks her, referring to the widow and her step-son. "Do you think it was just greed or possibly even moral?"

They could be just talking about the case, but he is aware that he is dangerously close to doing something completely unreasonable like stopping the car and blurting it all out, confessing his love. He knows, though, that it would be wrong. He has to get through to her first, understand why she distances herself from him. Otherwise, he may not only lose his last hope of being with her but perhaps also his business partner and he can't even remotely imagine that.

"I don't know," she answers quietly.

Cal hates how her voice sounds. A tone of voice she never used in the past. Friendly but too polite, bordering on indifferent. He is not anybody. They are friends, close friends; her voice shouldn't sound like this when she talks to him. It should be filled with warmth, affection, _love_.

"Aren't you the psychologist who always needs to know the reasons why something happens?" he starts an attempt at a light-hearted conversation and it seems to work.

She smiles, and for a brief moment, they are who they used to be. Cal and Gillian. Inseparable. Familiar. Relying on each other.

But when she answers, the distance creeps back into her voice, "People have so many layers, Cal. Sometimes, it's better not to question things but simply accept them."

After Claire's death, he kept his eyes glued to her. They talked, he held her when she cried, even stayed with her overnight when it was bad, comforted her until she fell asleep. It was a tough time, but it felt so good to be there for her. And it felt even better when she was over the worst. Now and here, and as cynical as it is, Cal almost longs for the tough time to come back just because he yearns for the closeness they had then.

He still is aware that it is most likely the wrong moment to address this, but Cal Lightman isn't known for his restraint, and right now, he feels as if he will explode any moment. Too many thoughts and feelings kept inside for too many years. His skin crawls; his heart throbs and his head hurts. Her detachment is causing him physical pain. Actually, he has trouble breathing.

"Cal...," Gillian notices that something is wrong and looks at him worried. "Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?"

_So, that's what it takes,_ he thinks bitterly. She may distance herself but as soon as he is in trouble, there is at least a glimpse of the Gillian he once knew.

"I give a shit about the grieving widow and her horny step-son," Cal curses, tossing all caution out of the window. "But I saw something in their eyes today that I see in the mirror every morning. _Every morning,_ Gill. Something I bury within myself so deep that I hope even you won't be able to see it. The regret of a life not lived."

Silence. There is nothing but silence. Then he feels an ease of mind he hasn't felt since forever. His head stops to hurt and his pulse slows down; his body no longer on alert. Instead, he hears Gillian's breathing now – shallow and irregular. Just when he starts to believe she won't even acknowledge what he said, he hears her whispered words.

"I don't think I can do this, Cal."

It's almost a plea and her desperation cuts right through him.

"It's ok, luv," he relents. "We don't have to talk about this now."

At least it's out in the open. Maybe that is enough for one day.

They have arrived at their office building. Cal parks the car and stops the engine. Gillian is about to get out when she stops in the middle of the movement.

"It's not only now, Cal," she adds and he can tell that it is not easy for her to say this. "I also don't want to talk about it later. Let's just...," she struggles for the right words and doesn't find them. "Let's just not do this."

She doesn't look at him when she eventually gets out of the car and walks away, straightening herself as if she left a burden behind.

* * *

**I know it's a bit sad, but I love angst, and as the saying goes, it has to get worse before it can get better.**

**With Easter approaching, I'm not quite sure how fast/slow the updates will be and hope you'll stick around either way.**

**Thank you so much for reading. Every review is very appreciated. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** First of all, sorry for the delay in updating. Blame it on real life & the Easter Bunny. If you are still here, I'm very happy that you stuck around to read more.

Somehow, I feel the need to apologize because this chapter might not be what you expect. Mainly, it's a journey into Gillian's and Cal's past (the parts in italics) while Cal is trying to figure out what is wrong with Gillian. I hope it's not boring, but this story is supposed to be about their whole journey together even if it is set in the present/future after the show ended. Therefore, it was important to me to show the whole picture, so to speak, and not only fragments. The plot will move forward from the next chapter on.

Thank you so much for your reviews & alerts. They make my day. Really.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Sad but true.

* * *

In retrospect, maybe there actually _was_ the right moment before and he missed it. Simply missed it. Because there were so many moments between them that the lines had become blurry. It was – and still is – very difficult for him to tell right from wrong when it comes to her.

Ever since their fatal talk, or rather non-talk, in the car, Cal racks his brains whether he screwed up his one and only chance and moreover why. He must have done something wrong in the past. Something he is not aware of as yet. Otherwise, Gillian wouldn't have reacted the way she did. He is sure of that.

If he weren't so confused and devastated, Cal would be angry with Gillian for being, or at least acting, completely unfazed by what is going on. Judging by her behavior, their talk in the car never happened. But he knows that Gillian is not like this. Emotional things get to her. She may be able to hide it to a certain extent, but there is no way she is as unfazed by it all as she pretends to be. On the surface, she is her friendly, overly polite, distanced self. Cal hopes, though, that there still is another version of her beneath. The Gillian he knows and loves. He just has to find a way to get through to her and make her listen to him.

So, there is this infinite loop of memories in his head while he is trying to find out what happened between them that might have caused her reaction. Situations. Words. Touches. Sometimes mere gestures, but it all means something. Everything means something when Gillian is involved. He has flaws, many of them, but she knows them all and Cal believed, sincerely believed, that their closeness after Claire's death helped them to get over whatever had happened before.

Therefore, he knows that this is not about one of his meaningless affairs, his childish behavior regarding their finances or the investigations of internal affairs that burdened her loyalty way beyond the limits of reasonableness. This is about something else. It drives him crazy not to know what it is and the infinite loop in his head goes on and on...

* * *

_Cal felt certain that it wasn't the right moment to tell Gillian about his feelings when she told him to obey the line. __No, that's not correct – he didn't know, didn't dare to hope, there could ever be a right moment until she told him to obey the line. They defined the ominous line when they started their partnership, agreed on not asking the other about things they could see or hear due to their expertise unless one of them shared the information voluntarily._

_Strictly speaking, Cal obeyed the line even if he followed Gillian's husband because he didn't act on something _she_ had given away. He acted on something he had seen in Alec's face and heard in his voice when he had overheard a phone call. Alec desperately had wanted to meet someone and it hadn't been about work as he had let on. When Cal followed him and saw him meet another woman, something... changed. _

_Up to that time, Gillian had been off-limits. They were both married when they met and Cal was more reserved back then. Less banter, only an occasional invasion of her personal space now and then. Things changed, though, after his divorce. He was a free man and could do whatever he wanted. Well, at least to a certain extent. Gillian, on the other hand, was married and had to observe the usual rules. So, they bantered; he invaded her personal space, but that was it. She was his business partner, his friend, of course. Yet, she had a husband. Therefore, nothing mattered – not the beauty of her face, not her sexy dress, not her subtle perfume. Or rather – nothing _should have mattered_ because ever since Cal found out about Alec and the other woman _still married_ was exactly how he was thinking of her status. He hated that it implied the threat of Gillian getting hurt. Then again, it also implied the possibility of something he hadn't even allowed himself to consider in the past, and suddenly, everything that shouldn't have mattered _did matter_ – her beauty, the way she dressed, the way she smelled, because her marriage had an expiration date. He knew it. She knew it. They simply didn't talk about it due to their agreement and the fact that Gillian hadn't given the go-ahead for it. Until that day._

_She explained that Alec had no affair, as Cal had assumed, although the explanation that he had a drug problem and the woman was his mentor wasn't much better and didn't explicitly exclude the possibility of an affair either. She was touched that Cal had followed Alec because he was afraid she would get hurt and wanted to protect her. Nevertheless, she told him to respect the line. Gillian told him a lot, actually. It was what she didn't tell him though. The way she reacted to him and his nearness, his concern, let alone his touch, made Cal dizzy when he became aware of options he hadn't even known were there. The way she pulled her arm away as soon as she realized that he did it all because of his protective instinct. The way her voice was hushed. The way she couldn't look at him after she told him everything. Her marriage, the former shield between them, was about to fall apart. Even if Gillian didn't say it, it was there between the lines loud and clear. And here he was protecting her, caring for her. Things her husband should have done. She most likely didn't know the intensity of his feelings, but he gave her enough of a glimpse into himself to make her sense the danger ahead. _

_It would have been dangerous, indeed, to tell her about his feelings. Too much, too soon. But Cal is sure that it wasn't only him who felt the tingle of more to come after that day. That day that wasn't the right moment._

* * *

_Cal knew it wasn't the right moment either when she introduced Captain America to him. Her new lover. Dave Burns. She waited as long as possible until she told Cal about him. She probably knew by then what Cal was holding back and refrained from telling her. Gillian didn't want to hurt him. Of course, he already knew about Burns, already had a folder in his safe with his name on it._

_When Gillian introduced Dave to him, she obviously hoped they would all get along. But... _Are you okay? _Her question told him that she was aware he was far from being okay._

_They didn't have time to find out how Cal would have coped with the unholy triangle. Dave Burns was an undercover cop and after his cover was blown, he had to leave. Cal stood there, watching Gillian's heart break when she realized that it was over. _

_Another day that wasn't the right moment._

_After that Cal retreated, told himself that it was not meant to be. _They_ were not meant to be. He was complicated, egocentric. If he made a move on her and messed it up, he would be number three in a row. Would Gillian be able to handle it? Yes. Did she deserve it? Definitely not. That insight was all it took._

* * *

_But then, one day, in the middle of their usual banter when Cal teased her that he couldn't even get near her when she was on the rebound, Gillian replied that maybe he didn't try hard enough. _

_Was that the right moment? The moment he missed?_

_Her statement, confession, whatever, came out of the blue and he was perplexed despite his witty response, asking her whether he would have had a chance. What followed was a classical deflection. She didn't answer his counter question, hasn't answered it to this day. Back then, he thought she was making fun of him, but he should have seen the signs. She avoided eye contact. Spoke too fast. She was embarrassed because of her slip. Gillian hadn't meant to say it. It was the truth either way. _

_Now, Cal realizes that all this time, after he had decided that he wasn't good enough for her, she had been waiting for him. He had given her enough friendship, security – and sometimes more when they bantered, touched or when he invaded her personal space – to keep her at his side. But while he was looking into another direction, several other directions or rather women actually, she had been looking at him the whole time. Waiting. _

_Yes, it might very well have been the right moment and he missed it, missed the one and only chance he had because obviously she isn't willing to give him another one. _

* * *

After one week, Cal gives in. His imaginary journey through their past led him to one moment that might or might not be the trigger for her behavior although the voice in his head tells him that it can't be the only trigger because her behavior only started to change some time later after Claire's death. It's the one clue Cal has, though, and he has to start somewhere. Either way, his assumption is no use without Gillian's validation. He has to ask her even if he dreads doing it, but there is one thing that keeps him going these days and gives him the courage to talk to her again, to ask her what this is all about.

When Gillian refused to talk to him in the car, Cal saw something in her eyes before she turned away from him and got out of the car. It was overshadowed by fear and resignation in the blink of an eye. It was there, though, if only for the split of a second. He might be wrong, but Cal is pretty sure that he read her right this time no matter how often she remains a mystery to him.

What he saw in Gillian's eyes was hope.

* * *

**I hope this chapter brought back (bittersweet) memories and you are not disappointed. As I said, the plot will move forward from now on.**

**Next chapter: Cal and Gillian talk another time and the reason for Gillian's behavior will (probably) be revealed.**

**Not to spoil you too much, but things will get a little tense in an elevator. ;)**

**Thank you for reading & reviewing.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you for your alerts and reviews. They kind of carry me through the story and encourage me to keep on writing because I tend to post as soon as I've written a chapter. Latitude24, Viola & other guest reviewers: That includes you, of course. If you review as guest, leave me a name and I can at least give you a shout-out here since I can't PM you like the others.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Still.

* * *

All day, Cal has been pondering on when or how to ask Gillian about his assumption why she refused to talk to him in the car. He and Gillian visited a new client to get a sense of his usual surroundings that may be important for their further evaluation. They are on their way back, waiting for the elevator to take them to their car that is parked in the underground garage. The confined space of the elevator seems to be just right. No escape route for her. If she still doesn't want to talk, at least she will have to listen.

"You know, Gill," Cal starts without warning after the doors of the elevators have closed. There is no one but them inside. "Maybe you were right. I should have tried harder when you were on the rebound."

He could have beaten around the bush. Then again, a ride in an elevator doesn't last forever. Cal doesn't have that much time and has to get to the point. Therefore, why not blurt it out immediately? He feels like a cat on a hot tin roof, anyway.

His tone of voice alerted Gillian from the moment he started to speak. She stares at him for a few seconds that stretch infinitely. As if he can hear the clock ticking, mocking him. Then Cal sees realization dawn on her. Gillian remembers their battle of words and blushes slightly before she looks away.

Although he tries to keep his cool, Cal's heart starts to beat faster. Was his assumption correct? Did he overlook his chance back then and this is why she doesn't want to give him another one? Can it be that easy?

"If this is the reason you didn't want to hear me out in the car, let me explain why I behaved the way I did at that time," Cal is aware that he is talking too fast. The elevator buys him some time, but it will be used up soon.

"I didn't...," he wants to continue, still talking too fast and too agitated, but her touch interrupts him.

"Cal...," for once, her voice doesn't sound formal and detached. It is warm and affectionate.

Gillian reaches out and touches his arm. Cal indulges in the feeling. Her voice. Her touch. It feels like old times. Relief floods through him. Then he realizes that he heard something else in her voice. Something he doesn't like. At least not when it is directed at him. When he looks at Gillian, he finds confirmation in her eyes. She feels sorry. Suddenly, the relief is gone and replaced by a feeling of utter helplessness.

"Why won't you even let me explain things?" he pleads, fully aware of the desperation that she can hear and see. He couldn't care less though. Any moment the elevator will stop, and judging by her body language and facial expression, their talk will be over at that moment. He is running out of time. Fast. "Why didn't you hear me out in the car? Was that the reason? What happened back then between us?"

Gillian doesn't take her hand away, seems to need the physical connection, and also continues to look at him as if she is searching for something. The mixed signals confuse him even more. The warmth and affection of her voice. The tenderness of her touch. And as opposed to this... regret.

"What are you looking for, Gill?" he asks hoarsely. "Tell me and I'll let you see it."

This time, something else flits across her face fleetingly. Cal catches sight of it, anyway. Pain.

"You don't need to explain anything, Cal," Gillian says quietly, deliberately not answering his last question.

"But if you let me explain why I acted as I did back then...," he tries again only to be interrupted by her another time.

"Cal," she squeezes his arm softly. "What happened back then is not the reason why...," she struggles for the right words as she did in the car and fails as she did then. "It's not the reason," she states eventually.

Confusion, sadness, a slight twinge of anger. All these emotions are trapped inside his body. Have been trapped there for a week, making his skin tingle. Cal refuses to believe that Gillian denies him an honest talk _again_. He simply can't go on like this.

He remembers another time when they were together in an elevator, arguing.

_You make me so mad sometimes. _He hears her words as if it was yesterday.

_I know. _He knew that his behavior was a challenge for her, to put it mildly, that he sometimes even provoked her deliberately because he liked their heated arguments. Therefore, his reply came immediate and her silence that followed confirmed she knew that he knew.

Not much has changed. He still makes her mad and they both know it. Save that he doesn't know the reason why this time.

Confusion, sadness, a slight twinge of anger. He has been carrying these emotions around too long, weighing him down. So, he is confused, yes, for sure, and deeply saddened, but right now anger is the one emotion that overtrumps the others. Mostly he is angry with himself because Cal still believes that somehow this all has to be his fault. However, he is also angry with Gillian because she stubbornly blocks each and every effort to sort things out. Well, she can try to block here and now as much as she wants; thanks to the confined space they are in, she has to listen to him either way.

"Look, Gillian. Here's what I don't understand. First, I saw hope on your face before you got out of the car."

She shifts uncomfortably, doesn't like where this conversation is heading, perhaps hoped that she had been able to hide her emotions better than she already did.

"Then, a few moments ago, I see regret." She looks away but not fast enough. "There," Cal points out. "There it was again. Why the regret? And why the pain I also saw just moments ago? What the hell is going on and why do you refuse to talk to me? I'm your friend, Gill. Talk to me."

There are tears in her eyes now. There is no sign of the Gillian she has been showing him during the last weeks anymore. No more distance. No more detached politeness. These are raw feelings and even if Cal hates to see her cry, this is a breakthrough. Somehow, he has managed to get through to her and she dropped her facade because of the emotional turmoil that is obviously going on inside of her.

Just when Cal wonders whether this is the longest ride in an elevator ever (not that he minds as long as she is with him, let alone that he has more time to talk to her), there is a loud, grinding noise and the elevator comes to a halt abruptly.

"Shit." Cal, who has been standing in the middle of the elevator, stumbles and almost falls to the ground whereas Gillian has been standing at one of the side walls and held on to the handrail to support herself on it.

"It's not working." Gillian presses the emergency button, but there is nothing but silence. "This is such a high tech building. You would think they have a functioning emergency system." She presses the emergency button again and then once more unsuccessfully.

"You are not claustrophobic, are you?" Cal asks because her behavior is getting fairly agitated. It would be news to him if she was. Then again, they never were stuck in an elevator before.

"No, Cal, I'm not," Gillian says trenchantly, the tears in her eyes gone due to the unexpected event. "I just want to get out of here."

_Oh, yes, luv, I can see that,_ Cal thinks bitterly. _Because every minute in here means that I have more time to talk to you and that you have to listen no matter whether you want to or not. _Well, actually, he knows that she neither wants to talk nor to listen to him. So much has been proven already. Hence, he really hopes that the crappy emergency system won't work for a bit longer and that they will be stuck in here. Together. Under the rather difficult circumstances, he considers himself quite lucky.

Eventually, Gillian gives up to press the button and leans back against one of the side walls, putting her hands on the handrail as if she needs something to hold on to. When she looks at him, Cal doesn't even try to pretend that he hasn't been watching her. She nods resignedly, obviously accepting the fact that she can't avoid more talking.

"Why the conflicting emotions?" Cal repeats his question. "Why the hope, the regret, the pain? What is going on with you? You have been different in the last few months, distanced, as if there is some kind of wall between us, and I can't figure out why for the world." His hands dance through the air, underlining his words, his body in steady movement due to his inner tension. "I miss you, Gill," he finishes his plea, "I need to know what is going on. Don't do this to us." He stops right in front of her, his body frozen in an abrupt motionlessness.

Now, that Gillian knows she can't prevent this talk from taking place, she prepares herself for whatever she expects to happen, holding Cal's intense gaze without so much as blinking. When push comes to shove, she always holds her ground – Cal has to give her that.

The tension in the air that surrounds them is almost palpable. Before he can question what he is doing, Cal has reached out and touches her face tenderly. Gillian doesn't move, but out of the corner of his eye he sees that she grabs the handrail so firmly that her knuckles are white spots on her already pale skin.

"I'm not doing anything to us," she finally says and he sees and hears the slight contempt because of what she apparently considers to be a wrongful accusation. _She_ didn't do anything. _He_ did something and she has to clear up the mess. As she always does. That's what she doesn't say, but what he hears, anyway. Cal doesn't want to call her out on it though. At least not yet. Not when she started to talk at last.

"I'm trying to make it work," Gillian states, leaving Cal even more clueless than before.

His hand drops from her face to her shoulder. Touching her face doesn't seem to be appropriate given the circumstances, but he can't bring himself to completely break their physical connection.

"It?" he asks in an attempt to get an explanation.

"_Us_," she replies irritated as if he of all people should know what she means. "I try to make us work as business partners and friends."

She seems to talk in a language he is not able to understand. The more she explains, the less he comprehends. They _are_ business partners and friends. Have been for years. What is it she has to work for so hard?

"Do you realize what I tried to tell you when we were on our way to the office after the case?" Perhaps she didn't get him right. Perhaps it is all just a stupid misunderstanding.

But, of course, it isn't. A misunderstanding doesn't explain her strange behavior lately.

Gillian swallows and almost breaks their eye contact but somehow manages to continue looking at Cal. The emotions she tries so hard to bottle up inside seem to intensify. He can feel her body trembling under his touch and sees a cacophony of the emotions he noticed before. Regret. Pain. And something else, something new – shame.

"Yes, I think so," she whispers.

Another dead-end answer. She knew, and yet, she wouldn't let him talk, let him explain, let him do anything. And moreover, she still doesn't tell him the reason behind all that. If she intends to leave him in the dark and drive him crazy, it is working. Perfectly. Cal's anger is back. He used the situation for his own benefit and made her talk, but it led to nothing. He is as wise as before.

"You're making no sense," he also whispers, the venom in his voice unmistakeable. "And you still owe me an explanation. If you know what I tried to tell you in the car, then you know that I want us to stop pretending that we are only business partners and friends. I thought we were getting closer after Claire's death, that it was only a matter of time until...," his voice trails off.

It's one thing to feel it, but the way Gillian behaves makes it even more difficult for Cal to tell her everything even if he could swear that she feels the same. The way her body trembles even more under his touch. Plus, there is one thing he didn't see in her face or hear in her voice and it should be there if she doesn't want him the way he wants her, _loves_ her. Rejection. He still hasn't figured out the reason for her emotions he noticed. She doesn't refuse to be touched by him though. On the contrary, she seems to try very hard to pretend that she doesn't like it and doesn't want to listen to him whereas her body language tells him the opposite now that she is emotionally so upset that she can't hide her feelings as perfectly as usual.

"If you don't feel the same, then at least have the courage to tell me," Cal dares her some more, raising his voice and grabbing both of her shoulders with his hands.

"Cal..."

Gillian is begging him with her eyes to stop and not to push her further, but he can't. He won't. Although she didn't give him an answer once more, she didn't deny that she has feelings for him either. It is all the confirmation he needs. Cal hates that she can do this to him with only one word – turn him into a weak version of himself without an own will. Only she is able to cast a spell on him. But not this time. Judging from the way she is breathing faster, maybe he is able to cast a spell on her, too, for a change.

"What do you regret?" One of his hands finds its way back to her face, caressing her cheek, the soft strands of her hair tickling his skin. "That you tried to convince me that you don't want this?"

It's only the slightest flicker in her eyes. The briefest micro expression. Cal sees it, anyway. _True_.

He misinterpreted what he saw earlier because he didn't know the reason behind. Gillian didn't feel sorry for him; she felt sorry for both of them, for herself.

"What causes you pain?" he continues, encouraged by his perception. "The imagination that once you convinced me, something like this will never happen?" His thumb caresses her cheek tenderly.

This time, she doesn't even try to hide it anymore. Again. _True_.

"Ah, yes," he mumbles. "You were about to destroy the hope you had allowed yourself to feel once and for all."

So, he had been right. He had seen hope in her eyes when she had been about to get out of his car. Gillian had wanted to hear him out back then, and yet, she had refused to do it as she did a few moments ago. Her behavior still is very confusing, but at least he is getting closer to the truth she is trying so hard to hide.

Cal's hand shifts to her neck and he pulls her slightly toward him, her hands finally loosening their deadly grip on the handrail.

"But why the shame?" That is the one emotion he understands least of all. What possible reason could she have to feel ashamed? "Because you thought you had to do all that and realized it was a mistake?"

Gillian still doesn't try to hide her emotions, but it seems as if he is running out of luck after all. _False_.

Moreover, her hands that were about to let go of the handrail and touch him instead are holding on to the handrail in an even deadlier grip than before.

"Why the shame, Gillian?" Cal urges her. "And why did you feel the need to behave as you did in the first place? What caused the changes in your behavior?"

He can sense it. The truth is within reach. But so is she. Their physical closeness combined with the wrought-up feelings brings something forward that is not actually in accordance with his plan to talk to her. It has been months that she let him get that close to her, emotionally _and_ physically, and right now, all he wants to do is give in, stop talking and just feel. Her. Them.

When Gillian doesn't answer, it is obvious that their talk is over either way. Cal gets even closer to her, closing the gap between their bodies.

"Okay, you don't want to tell me. Fine. Or... not fine, but not much I can do about it, aye? And to be honest, I don't care. Because all I want to do is kiss you. So, what do you say, Gill? I kiss you and then you tell me everything or not. It's up to you."

It feels strange to say these words to her, but they are at a point of no return. Things were bad between them, really bad, and right now, they are a little better. Maybe this is just a desperate attempt at taking what he can get. Maybe he will regret it tomorrow. Here and now, he doesn't care. Of course, Cal doesn't want to complicate things even more. However, this is Gillian; he knows now that their mutual attraction was no imagination and he is intoxicated by her. Maybe the last push she needs to act upon the feelings she is trying to hide are no words.

Gillian doesn't say anything, but her glimpse jumps back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. He can tell that she tries to keep it focused on his eyes instead of his lips. Her attempt is unsuccessful though. Back and forth. Eyes and mouth.

The air between them is so emotionally charged that Cal briefly wonders whether they created some kind of weird energy that caused the elevator to malfunction. Or perhaps he should start to believe in fate.

"You're not in the mood to talk," he mumbles. "I get it. But I will kiss you now and if you don't want it, then you should better tell me to stop."

Gillian's breathing is hot and quick, caressing his face. She still doesn't respond, but suddenly Cal feels her hands pulling him even closer. She must have let go of the damn handrail at long last. Then his lips find hers or hers find his and it's only a kiss, but it's so much more.

The weight of his body presses her into the wall of the elevator and he considers to take one of his hands off her so that he can support himself on the wall, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hands are on his back, on his face and neck, everywhere. Cal imagined their first kiss countless times, but he never imagined it to be like this. Gillian is as passionate as he expected (or rather hoped). There is a fierce desperation beneath, though, that makes him almost shiver despite the lust as if she and not he is trying to take what she can get.

Cal's hands sneak underneath her coat and he feels the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. He acts on autopilot, giving in to his emotions completely, when his hands first caress her waist and back rather harmlessly before they find their way on their own accord over her hips moving downward. Just when he reaches the hem of her dress, begins to pull it up and senses her pull away, her hands stopping him softly, he realizes what he was about to do.

"Sorry," he mutters, out of breath. Then again, so is she.

"It's okay." He loves the sound of her voice. Breathy. A tad deeper than usual, full of pure emotion. Sexy.

Cal lets go of her dress and embraces her tenderly instead. It feels so good to hold her.

"Tell me what I did, Gill," he speaks into her ear. The words are out before he remembers that he didn't want to push her anymore. Well, at least not with words. "Just tell me and I swear I will apologize and make it up to you."

She tenses in his arms and he holds her even closer.

"Whatever it is, nothing can be worse than not knowing what it is, not talking about it." He will let it go for today if she keeps ignoring his efforts. Only one more try. "Was it something I said to you?"

Cal leans back a little to see her facial expression that tells him his assumption is right. _Yes. Something he said. _But instead she says, "No." And oddly enough, her face and voice tell him that this is also true. How is that possible?

"I don't understand." He takes her face in both of his hands, doesn't want to miss anything. Not one micro expression, not one fitful breathing. How is it possible that he said something that hurt her that much, and yet, he apparently didn't say it _to her_. His mind is pondering on other possibilities, coming up with the only logical conclusion.

"So, you overheard something? Something I said about you to someone else?"

Gillian looks at him, realizing that he noticed the contradiction between her facial expression and her answer, and lets him see that he is getting closer to the truth but not quite there yet. It's a reward for his relentless efforts. Cal also sees that the shame is back. She wants him to know the truth. At the same time, though, she is too ashamed and worried about the consequences to tell him.

"Gill...," his hands grab her face even harder although not hard enough to hurt her. "Please. You have to help me out here."

Her skin is so soft. It's a sensory overload. Cal wants to clear things up, but he also wants to kiss her again and never stop. God, he _really_ wants to kiss her and brushes against her lips with his, feeling her respond only to retreat seconds later as if she is surprised by her own reaction. She eyes him scrutinizingly and seems to come to a decision.

"I...," she starts just when there is a loud, grinding noise similar to the one they heard when the elevator stopped suddenly. After that, there is a jolt and the elevator moves again.

_We experienced some technical problems that have been fixed. _The voice of a woman purrs over the speakers next to the emergency button. _Hopefully, you did not have too many inconveniences._

Cal wouldn't call what happened an inconvenience. In fact, it was the best that happened to them in weeks past even if the elevator has a bloody timing. Gillian was about to tell him everything.

"Don't stop. Tell me," he pleads with her desperately.

Time has run out though. The elevator comes to a halt, its doors opening with a soft sound.

_Underground parking garage_, the automatic announcement informs them as if they were interested.

For a brief moment, Cal considers to ignore it and to remain in this position, to let the doors close again, the elevator move, other people get in and out, until she tells him everything. But of course it would expose them to the irritation of curious onlookers and while he is used to that, he doesn't intend to do it to Gillian. He steps back, and with this, the magic spell is gone. Gillian shuts down and shuts him out in the process, but when they leave the elevator and he feels for her hand on their way to the car, she doesn't pull it away although she doesn't look at him.

_Closer to the truth but not quite there yet._ Cal is willing to give her a break even if he doesn't intend to let her get away with more of her silence treatment. After all, he doesn't want to wait another nine years for their next kiss.

* * *

**I know. Gillian didn't tell Cal everything but at least something. ;)**

**You will find out about the rest in the next chapter that will (mainly) be written from Gillian's point of view. Promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This is probably the longest and most complicated chapter I've ever written. It was a struggle for me to stay in character because it is not all Cal's fault (and somehow we're used to him, and _only_ him, screwing up as he did on the show because he is Cal). In this story, though, Gillian makes mistakes, too, and I really, really hope that I managed to write it in a way that is still in character. From my point of view, her character has many more layers than those that we were allowed to see on the show. So, there is definitely more angst ahead. Cal and Gillian are perfect for each other, but they are not perfect.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your reviews and alerts. I can't even begin to explain how much they mean to me and make my day. Special thanks to Roadrunnerz for going to the trouble of listening to my ramblings and inspiring me and to NinaWS for being so nice to spoil me with her assumptions. ;)

Rating for language and content.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

_Tomorrow..._ That's what Cal said to her when he dropped her off at her house on their way back to the office. There were no urgent cases waiting for her and after their rather unexpected, and even more intense, _encounter_ in the elevator, Gillian had decided to call it a day. She felt exhausted and tired, and obviously, Cal felt the same. They didn't talk during the drive and when he stopped in front of her house, all he said was that one word. _Tomorrow..._ She knew what he meant. Tomorrow they would talk. Tomorrow he expected her to tell him everything. And tomorrow is now.

Gillian is sitting in her office. She came in very early because she wanted some time by herself, didn't want to meet anyone, especially not Cal. Of course, he offered to pick her up in the morning on his way to the office because she left her car here when they headed to the appointment with their client yesterday, and of course, she told him, no, thank you, she would take a cab. Compared to what else happened the previous day, it was an almost amicable exchange of words though. They both had no energy left to fight over unimportant details. If she wanted to take a cab, he wouldn't disagree.

The silence in the office due to the unearthly hour is peaceful. Gillian closes her eyes and inhales the aromatic scent of her coffee. She is even more tired than yesterday because she barely slept last night, her thoughts weighing heavily on her. Cal deserves the truth, and on one hand, it is a relief to tell him everything after all this time. On the other hand, the shame he saw in her face is real. Merely thinking about what she has to tell him makes her feel even more ashamed – for various reasons. But worst of all is that she has no idea how it all is going to end. After what happened between them the previous day, she doesn't know anything anymore.

Gillian feels her pulse quicken at the very thought of the way Cal touched her with his hands and his words. If she is honest with herself, she always imagined it to happen that way or at least very similar. Well, not in an elevator that is. Yesterday's version of Cal, who was so desperate to know, and moreover _understand_, what she has been hiding from him and why she did it, is exactly the version she got to know after Claire died. He was so caring, unselfish and... just there for her all the time that she started to believe they could be more than friends. Finally. Oh God, yes, _finally_. After all the fights over finances and trust and loyalty, after all the other women. Cal was right when he realized that she had wanted him to make a move on her when they had bantered about the rebound thing (even if it is true when she told him that it isn't the reason for her current behavior that he didn't take her up on her hint). He is an expert in detecting lies, but he couldn't see, or chose to ignore, the truth no matter if it stroke him in the face. Her subtle hint hadn't prompted him to act back then. However, when he was so tender and sweet after Claire's death, she hoped that her feelings for him weren't a one way ticket, that the attraction was mutual and not simply a crude mix of friendship and his need to check her out. What a fool she had been. Accidentally, she found what was not meant for her to see. It put everything into perspective and broke her heart. Let alone that it caused her to do something she regrets deeply to this day.

It was an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances to put it mildly. An interaction between when and why that couldn't have ended worse. _I'm trying to make it work. Us. _Gillian was serious when she told Cal that, had considered the changes in her behavior the only possible solution to make things work – at least for a while. Then her failure became obvious, other things happened and she was stuck. When Cal tried to talk to her in the car, it was too late. She had already screwed things up so badly that she couldn't imagine to get back to business as usual. Let alone to start something new with Cal that needed to be based on trust and honesty. Yet, she wasn't able to resist him when he changed his modus operandi and let his hands do the talking. She knows that her mixed signals confused him even more. He doesn't deserve this. It is more than overdue to end this charade no matter what the cost. _No matter what the cost..._ The thought that this might be the last day in her office, her last day with Cal... Gillian swallows, her view suddenly blurry due to tears. The scent of her coffee is not aromatic anymore; she doesn't even want to drink it although it is her favorite flavor. Why can't tomorrow be not until tomorrow? Why does tomorrow have to be today?

* * *

The day doesn't seem to end. Gillian dreads their talk. It is all the more unnerving, though, that Cal apparently is avoiding her. It is early evening when he eventually pops his head into her office. She already considered that he forgot what is supposed to take place and to go home. As if...

"Hey, luv."

He doesn't wait for her invitation and comes in, but his insecurity shows in every move that is even more wobbly than usual. She is not the only one who dreads their talk.

"Hey, Cal."

This isn't a good start. They are both so nervous. Her greeting sounded false and staged although it was meant to be affectionate.

Cal approaches her desk and sits down in one of the chairs in front of it. A file from one of their current cases lies on Gillian's desk, and for several seconds, she shoves it back and forth until she recognizes the displacement activity and stops. There is nothing else left to do. So, she looks at him. Of course, his eyes are already resting on her face. Observing. Gentle.

Gillian thought that she could do this, but she was wrong. Her emotions threaten to boil over much too quickly; she tears up as she did several times during the day whenever she thought of this. She looks down, pretending to take another look at the file, but Cal already saw it.

"I'm not your enemy, luv," he assures her. "Nothing bad is going to happen. Just tell me. You know. What you couldn't tell me because that darn elevator moved again." He leans back, one arm dangling over the back rest in an effort to appear relaxed and calm when every fiber of his body is screaming that he is anything but.

"I know you're not my enemy, Cal. You are my friend." This is not proceeding as it is supposed to. She is choked up with emotion, barely able to speak. Yes, he is her friend. Then again, he is so much more.

"Gill..."

He leans forward to soothe her, but she already jumped up. There is too much desperation and energy within her body to remain seated.

"No, you don't understand. I _know_ that I have to tell you everything and I _want_ to do it. Really. But you have to understand that it will change things between us and that I'm... prepared to bear the consequences. If you want me to leave then I will do it."

Fear. That is everything Gillian is able to feel. Her heart beats wildly and her skin tingles. All she is longing for is for Cal to take her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay. But he probably won't. Most likely. Not after what she is going to tell him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that he jumped up, too, and is already standing next to her, taking one of her hands and leading her around her desk so that she can sit in the chair opposite to his. It is an interesting choice, actually. A sign that, opposed to Cal's behavior in the elevator, this is not meant to end in a physical encounter. This is all about their emotional bond. The realization lets Gillian's legs turn to jelly and she sinks down on the chair. Somehow, it was much easier to give in to desire than to face her feelings and inner demons. Cal sits on his chair, facing her, still holding her hands. She should tell him how distracting it is that his fingers slowly caress hers, but it feels too good to make him stop. In fact, it is the only reason why she is at least remotely able to breathe regularly and think halfway reasonable.

"Leave... Gillian? What is this nonsense about leaving?"

Broken, that's what he looks like and it breaks her heart to see him like this, to know that she is the reason. It can't get much worse than this. Gillian takes a deep breath. Let's get it over with.

"Your assumption was almost right," she says. "Only that you didn't say something to me or to someone else so that I could overhear it. I read it, Cal. I read the draft of one of the chapters of your book. It was about me."

Cal looks at her incredulously.

"My book?" he stutters confused. "It's not even finished. How? When? What did you read?"

Gillian can see his mind racing. The book is an inconvenient subject. They only talk about it should it be necessary. His deadline has been prolonged many times. Yet, there is always the threat that the patience of his publisher will run out one day and that he has to pay a penalty that will ruin The Lightman Group. Inconvenient, indeed and at best. Therefore, Cal never showed Gillian a draft because – frankly – there is no draft that is worth showing. But if he never showed her one, how could she have read it?

Her thoughts drift back to an evening almost three months ago and she tells him...

* * *

_They had dinner at Cal's house. It had become a beloved tradition after Claire's death and after Emily had left for college. Dinner on Friday. They rarely went out. Probably because it would have felt like a date. Instead, they met at Gillian's or Cal's house. Well, mostly at Cal's because he liked to cook and he liked to cook for her even more._

_She doesn't remember what they had for dinner, but at some point Emily called and since she didn't call that often (enjoying her new freedom and all that), Gillian indicated that it was okay for her if he took his time and talked to her as long as he wanted. It felt good to be there with him. Domestic. In his house. Hearing him talk in the background. As if they were a family. She remembers how her chest constricted at that thought. First, she cleared the table, and then, she moved around to distract herself. There were no forbidden areas in Cal's house. He always emphasized that she could go everywhere, that he had no secrets. When she saw the laptop and some notes on a table, she didn't intend to pry around. But in passing, she made out her name. And then she realized that this had to be a draft of a chapter of his book. And then she stopped to read it. _

_When Gillian told him __a couple of minutes later _that she had to go because she wasn't feeling well, Cal was disappointed but not wary. Sometimes, she got those nasty headaches all of a sudden and he was used to that. He was still talking to Emily and hugged and kissed her on the cheek rather clumsily while holding the phone, listening and talking all the time.

* * *

Cal is staring at her, his facial expression still gentle and understanding because he wants to keep her talking. Beneath it, though, she senses his confusion and guardedness. He hasn't figured out as yet what it is that she read.

What is so special about this man that she screwed it all up so badly when her intention was to find a way to stay with him forever? Because that is the only thing she wants when it comes to Cal. _Forever_. She has been aware of it for quite a while now. And if it can't be forever... that way, then she at least wanted them to be together as business partners and friends. It was preposterous, though, to believe she would be able to hide her feelings and the changes in her behavior from him 24/7. Yes, she can do it occasionally, has perfected it actually. But all the time? He is an expert in detecting lies. What did she expect?

Just when the silence between them threatens to get awkward and he is about to lose his patience and ask her to tell him what exactly it was that she read, she continues to speak.

"_She is my Leo_," Gillian quotes what she read back then, is able to recite it word for word, the words imprinted in her memory. _"I don't know why I deserve to have such a wonderful friend and human being in my life," _she makes a pause to take a deep breath. Until then she had been smiling when she read it at that time, a bit uneasily perhaps but smiling nonetheless. Declaring her his _Leo_ in reference to one of their cases, implying that they were (only) best friends, wasn't what she had hoped for. Yet, Cal had chosen nice words. And calling her his Leo didn't exclude that they would be something more one day. When she read on, though, that hope was destroyed and her smile was clouded by tears. _"Let me be clear. I understand very little, least of all the people closest to me," _Gillian resumes to quote his words, her voice slightly trembling when she relives the moment,_ "but if I know one thing for sure than it is that Gillian and I will always be friends, nothing less but also nothing more. Ever." _

She takes another deep breath, tears in her eyes just like back then, aware that her voice is shaking by now. His written words still have the ability to hurt her deeply no matter how many months ago she read them.

"That's what I read, Cal. That's why I distanced myself from you because I thought that was what you wanted. Just friends, no more."

Cal's face is a picture of utter disbelief until anger gains the upper hand quickly. He laughs humorlessly and Gillian pulls her hands away irritated.

"Bloody hell, Gillian," he is not able to contain himself, his words spouting. "_That_ is the reason for all this? It was one of many drafts, and in the end, I decided that there will be nothing about you in my book because it's too personal. I don't even exactly remember what I wrote, and damn it, I didn't mean it the way you obviously interpreted it. You are the one who always wants to know the reason behind everything. Why didn't you talk to me?"

Cal leans forward and she resists the urge to lean back to create a distance between them. Right now, it is all too much. Emotions. Confessions. Their physical closeness. He doesn't try to touch her again though.

"What was there to talk about?" she deflects lamely. Gillian is tired, so tired. That first part of what she has to tell him already drained all her energy. And yet, there is more to come.

"For example, Gillian, why it was so hard for you to keep your distance. We _were_ friends, we _are_ friends. So, what's the problem? The only reason I didn't go for more sooner was because I was afraid to screw it up, because I thought you deserved a better man than me. That's why I wrote that lines in my draft sometime even if I barely remember it. It wasn't that I didn't want to _be_ with you. I didn't want to _allow_ myself to go for it, wanted to _protect_ you. Well, selfish bastard that I am, I went after you anyway. But you? Why was it so hard for you to keep your distance? Can't be because you thought I deserved a better woman."

_Clean like you..._ She remembers what Cal said to her when they argued about Detective Wallowski, an investigation conducted by internal affairs that tested their loyalty and burdened their relationship. Gillian knows that in Cal's imagination she is some superior being, that he put her on a pedestal years ago, and this is why he believes he is not good enough for her. It makes her cringe internally, though, that he saw through her that easily, figured out that she believes to be better, not least _better for him_, than all the women he dated before. _Clean like you..._ It hurt when he said it back then. Yet, it was and still is close to the truth.

It is moments like this when Gillian almost resents him for being the way he is although she is aware that Cal probably dislikes some of her attributes just the same in these instances. They argue rarely but whenever they do, it is heated. When push comes to shove, he barks and bites and knows no limit while she is busy collecting her thoughts and keeping her cool. He wants it all, ignoring possible collateral damage, and she wants to do the right thing, to minimize the fallout.

Of course, Cal knows by now why she behaved the way she did. Her body told him as much in the elevator yesterday and her face and behavior told him the rest a few moments ago. He just wants to hear her say it. Except that she can't. All Gillian can think of is how agitated and angry he already his (and maybe relieved because he believes this is just about his draft although he should know better on second thought). Anyhow, he doesn't know everything as yet.

Since she doesn't answer, he does the talking.

"You wanted more and thought I didn't. Ever. That's why it suddenly was impossible for you to be just friends with me," he pronounces each sentence in his unique way. She would recognize his voice always and everywhere. "Quite difficult to keep the distance when you want more, aye?"

She knows he is referring to himself as well as to her, that he is hurt and angry because of the way she treated him, and moreover, because she didn't talk to him. But instead of admitting it, he chooses mockery. Another one of Cal's default settings even if it is equally at her as at his own cost in this case.

"Stop that, Cal," Gillian rebukes him. She is guilt-ridden. However, she won't let him get away with it.

This is their game. He oversteps the mark and she pulls him back. Sometimes it works and sometimes... not.

"You wanted me yesterday in that elevator," he all but growls. "I saw it and I felt it. So, why don't you just say it?"

She assumes that Cal refers to the way she touched him because she stopped him when his hands were about to take a walk under her dress and before he could actually _feel_ her desire. Gillian blushes anyway because if he had... She blushes even more.

"Yeah," he comments hoarsely. "Same here."

There is a brief silence, both of them trying to calm down despite the vivid memories of the day before. Cal's hands reach out hesitatingly to touch one of hers again.

"Then why wouldn't you let me talk to you? You should have been relieved. It was all you wanted. It is all I want. We could be... happy." Cal says the last word with such timid hope that it breaks her heart all over again.

Gillian looks down at his hands that are caressing hers. She would have given everything to hear him out and fall in his arms afterwards, kiss him, make out with him, whatever inappropriateness would have been remotely appropriate given the circumstances. Unfortunately, her discovery and her hurt had led to something else in the meantime. Something she regrets deeply but can't undo no matter how much she wants it.

"Because it was too late," is her whispered response.

She feels the shame kicking in with full force. When she looks up and makes eye contact again, Gillian knows that Cal can see it. This is the part of her confession she dreads the most. He thinks it is all about his draft. If only... Cal is not the only one with character flaws. Gillian straightens herself and pulls her hand away another time. She doesn't want him to touch her, considering what she is about to tell him.

"Whoa," Cal recoils as if she hit him. What he sees in her face, as well as her physical need to distance herself from him, apparently scares him. A lot.

"You might think you are the only one to screw things up, Cal, but this time I beat you to it. Do you remember the tendering for Colton Industries?"

He nods. Of course, he remembers. He wanted that case so badly. It was about barely visible micro expressions and seemingly unsolvable behavior patterns. More like a scientific research. It would have boosted the reputation of The Lightman Group, but most of all it would have boosted Cal's reputation and ego. They were close to being hired, but then the company hired someone else last-minute. That was about two weeks ago. Cal was devastated when he heard it.

"The CEO had a thing for you. That's why he exclusively contacted you. You told me that he called you before work to tell you they hired someone else," he says.

"Yes," Gillian confirms. "That's what I _told_ you, but that is not what _happened_. He tried to reach me the previous evening. And when I didn't answer the call as we had agreed upon, he hired someone else. That's what he told me when I called him back the next morning."

"I don't understand. Why didn't you answer his call?"

"Because I had disconnected my phone."

"I don't understand," Cal repeats. This is not like her. The CEO was a man with high standards. She had to have known that he wouldn't simply try to call their office or Cal. If Gillian had agreed to wait for his call, then he wouldn't accept the fact that she didn't answer it and hire someone else. Plain and simple.

"I made a mistake. You may believe I have no character flaws, but you're wrong. I'm just as flawed as you," she begins her explanation, trying to keep her voice steady. However, it doesn't work. Gillian's voice is strained, the shame that is still visible in her face pushing and pulling at her already overwrought nerves. "When I met my old friend from college on that evening, it was purely coincidental."

Gillian focuses on a spot behind Cal so that she can see his reactions but doesn't have to look at him directly. Her last sentence made him flinch. He leans back in his chair. There is no expert needed to interpret his reaction. As she did just moments ago, he is distancing himself from her, wary what comes next, hoping that his assumption is not true.

_Sorry, Cal, it is,_ Gillian thinks bitterly as her thoughts drift back again. Compared to this memory, thinking about Cal's draft was a piece of cake. She feels sick but tells him, anyway...

* * *

_It was one of the few times Gillian went to a bar. To be precise, she had never gone to a bar before _alone_. Not even during her worst days when her marriage was about to fail or after her divorce. On that evening, though, she had felt like it. She knew that she was slowly but surely screwing things up with Cal and had no idea what to do about it, only was painfully aware how miserable they both felt. It was the last thing she wanted, but she wasn't able to change her behavior even if it wasn't her usual style to passive-aggressively punish someone (Cal) for something that wasn't his fault. The only solution seemed to be to leave The Lightman Group. That was the one thing, though, that Gillian didn't even want to consider. There had to be another way. Gillian didn't intend to get drunk; she simply couldn't bear to sit at home and stare at the wall any longer, hoping to find a way out. _

_And like a cruel twist of fate, an old friend from college entered the bar. It was the classical story. At college, they had had the hots for each other but never had gone for it. Now, here he was, freshly divorced and looking and smelling as good as she remembered. Yes, fate really had a twisted sense of humor. It was so easy to talk to him and such a relief to talk about something else than what consumed her mind all the time. Just the company she needed. So, they talked much and drank a little (Gillian switched to water after her third drink and when she did he did, too). And when he got closer and touched her occasionally, it felt too good to stop him. He was saying and doing the right things even if he was the wrong man. Maybe she encouraged him; maybe she let it happen. Either way, they decided to take it elsewhere after their first kiss._

* * *

"You _went home_ with him?" Cal interrupts her. "You _slept_ with him?" He is so calm, and at the same time, so angry as she has never seen him before.

For a moment, Gillian considers to tell him blatantly that, yes, she slept with him and it was fun and who is he to judge her. The urge to hurt Cal as much as he hurt her again and again with his meaningless affairs is almost overwhelming. Then again, that is not who she is. All she is going to tell him is the truth. It is painful enough.

"I went home with him and that was the moment I decided to disconnect my phone, but I didn't sleep with him," she says, surprised that she manages to deliver this rather delicate information that easily.

* * *

_Under normal circumstances, it would have been a no-go. Gillian would never let a stranger take her home on their first date for various reasons. It was anything but a regular date though. She knew that man and wanted to erase Cal from her mind, if only for one night, with a fierce intensity that almost scared her. Aside from the fact that there was no way she would have taken him to her house._

_Once she was in his apartment, Gillian realized it was a major mistake. Yet, she didn't leave, didn't tell him to stop because she wanted to go through with her plan to forget Cal. In hindsight, it was ridiculous. She is a psychologist and should have known better. Back then, though, she deliberately ignored her instinct and they even made it into his bed. Her memories are a bit blurry from that point on because touching and kissing and making out has no clear structure. So, all she knows is that when she eventually pulled away and told him, no, sorry, she couldn't do it, she still wore her underwear._

* * *

All that, she doesn't tell Cal, hopes that he won't ask for details, but of course he doesn't allow her the easy way out.

"You went home with him," he states, the information that she deliberately disconnected her phone although she knew that would result in losing their client apparently minor in comparison. "And what happened then? Did you tuck him in and kiss him goodnight? Or did you two have a full make out session and you left him alone with a hard-on?"

Gillian flinches at his choice of words although they are dead on. Then she settles for, "I couldn't do it."

"You already told me that you didn't sleep with him. Not my question. I asked you what happened _after_ you went home with him and _before_ you couldn't do it."

She feels like his prey. He has bent forward again, his hands on his thighs as if he tries to stop himself from touching her. Cal's gaze has a wild intensity that she has never seen before and that makes her shiver. Dark. Dangerous. _Possessive_. And she _likes_ it. Actually, she likes it a lot. Maybe there is still hope. Maybe they can work this out. Even if Gillian knows by now that they both want more than friendship, she didn't realize up to this point _how much_ Cal wants it. How much he wants _her_. Yet...

"I won't give you any details, Cal," she says quietly, also bending forward to touch his hands as a peace offer.

But just when she reaches out to touch him, he hisses and jumps up. She freezes in the middle of the movement and looks up at him except that he isn't looking at her face. He is staring rather blatantly at her cleavage that revealed a little more than she intended when she leaned forward. And it is not the silky bra he admires because his stare is anything but admiring. She forgot, simply forgot; it wasn't deliberate to let him see it when she bent over. They are already faded because it was two weeks ago, but they stand out against her pale skin. On her left breast are two bruises. At least in this regard, it was a college reunion.

"Are these...?" he growls.

"Cal..." Gillian stands up, too, so that he can't stare at her cleavage any longer. _Love bites_ he would call them, she thinks, although nothing in that night was about love. Well, at least not about the love for the man who gave her the love bites.

Cal gets closer, his eyes now focused on her face. When he is so close that their bodies almost touch, he raises his right hand and puts it softly on her chest, right above her heart, right where the bruises are that are hidden underneath her dress. His touch is so soft that she can barely feel it. Nevertheless, her heart skips a beat.

Gillian understands his hurt. After all, she was in his place many times. And he knows that he hurt her with his behavior. Perhaps not intentionally but still... _You tell me we're okay,_ she remembers him practically begging her after one of his affairs. _How is it to be on the receiving end, Cal?_ she thinks with a slight satisfaction she resents to feel but can't help it. Then she becomes aware of something else.

"Aren't you angry with me that I disconnected the phone?" she asks. "You wanted that case so much. And we lost it because of me."

He doesn't move, his hand still on her chest, his eyes still on her face.

"Do you really think I care about that?" Cal eventually answers. "You were hurt and wanted to hurt somebody in return – me, yourself, the whole world – because you thought I didn't want you, didn't love you. So, hell no, I don't give a shit about the bloody phone."

She swallows. They are still arguing, but it is the first time that one of them brought up _love_. And _he_ did it.

"Some part of me might have done it to hurt you," Gillian admits. "Everything. The other man. Disconnecting the phone. But most of all, I wanted to heal or hurt myself. I can't even tell." She snorts. "All I know is that I wanted to forget you that night. I tried _so hard_ to forget you." He flinches from her words but still doesn't move. "And then one thing led to another and I thought that... if I really went through with it and slept with him... I would need just one more push so that I could do what I felt was necessary, namely, to leave The Lightman Group and end our misery. I had to hurt you so badly and abuse your trust that I wouldn't be able to forgive myself even though you were not supposed to ever gain knowledge of it."

"Your standards, not mine," Cal mumbles. "I'm not proud of it, but I'm used to hurting people." He makes a pause and his eyes darken. "Why didn't you sleep with him?"

It would be pointless to lie. "Because you are right. I thought you didn't want me, didn't love me," she breathes. "And yet, I still wanted you, still...," her voice trails off. She wants to tell him. If they are still Cal and Gillian tomorrow that is and not just former business partners and friends. In fact, she _longs_ to tell him. Soon. But not now, not in the middle of an argument. "As much as I tried, it didn't feel right. He wasn't you," she whispers instead and notices how the look in his eyes softens.

Gillian wants to ask Cal, always wanted to ask him, if his affairs were surrogates, too. If he thought of her when he touched the other women. But it also doesn't feel right to discuss that here and now. Maybe sometime or other.

"If you had a plan, not that I call sleeping with men you meet at a bar at random a plan, then why didn't you leave," Cal mumbles.

She shakes her head. How could she ever have thought that she would be able to leave The Lightman Group, let alone _him_?

"As much as I thought it was the right thing to do, I couldn't. I'd rather be miserable here with you than happy anywhere else. Unless you want me to leave." She shakes her head again as if she can't believe all this. "Rather pathetic, I know. "

Gillian has teared up again and Cal finally takes his hand away from her chest to brush a tear away.

"Nah..." he shakes his head. "You screwed up, but you're only a beginner. No competition for me. I don't see why you should have to leave."

He uses mockery again, but his voice is soft and tender, and this time, she appreciates it. The relief is overwhelming. She is crying and laughing at the same time, can't believe that he forgave her so easily, can't believe how stupidly she acted, why she didn't talk to him to begin with.

"I'm so sorry, Cal," she apologizes, touching his chest with both of her hands. "So sorry."

"Well, you can stay on one condition," Cal says rather light-heartedly, but Gillian senses that there is more to it because he looks at her in a way that makes her swallow. Greedy. Hungry.

"What is it?" she barely dares to ask.

"Take me to that bar tonight."

If there is one predictable thing about Cal Lightman, then it is his unpredictability.

* * *

**I think most of you recognized the reference to Leo and to the few lines we saw of Cal's draft on the show.**

**Aside from that, I hope the chapter was as intense for you to read as it was for me to write.**

**I am always eager to know what you think but especially after this chapter.**

**So, I'd really appreciate it if you left a review on your way out. Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Since the last chapters were written either from Cal's or from Gillian's point of view, I decided to go for a mixture in this chapter. Therefore, the pov changes alternately. Aside from that, yes, this is the bar scene you've probably been waiting for. ;)

Thank you for your reviews (and that includes the guest reviewers) and alerts. I have to admit that, considering the worries I had beforehand, I'm a bit overwhelmed by the positive response the last chapter received. So, thanks again! It certainly made writing this chapter even more fun.

Rating is a strong "T" for language and content.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

Gillian is driving, but she is hardly able to concentrate on traffic. There is a myriad of emotions and thoughts clamoring inside her. She was so relieved when Cal forgave her for what was almost unforgivable by her standards. However, the relief was replaced by surprise and perhaps a hint of irritation when he asked her to take her to the bar where she met her old friend from college. Then again, how could she deny him his request after all that happened?

She saw the jealousy in his eyes when she told him about her (nearly) affair, one-night stand, whatever, and the confusion when she told him about her reasons for missing that important call from a potential client on purpose. Yes, he forgave her, but the look in his eyes still gives Gillian the shivers. What is it that he wants to prove by going to that bar? Does he hope to meet the other man so that he can knock him down? It would be a bit immature, but with Cal she can't rule it out. Does he simply want to see where it happened? Or does he intend to replace her memories with fresh memories of the two of them being there together?

He is sitting beside her in silence. It is awkward. Yet, it is the only way, at least for the time being, that Gillian can manage to drive at all. It would have been simply impractical to let Cal drive and give him directions. Therefore, she asked him if they could rather not talk on their way to the bar. He accepted her wish with a brief _sure, luv_ and hereby allowed her inner turmoil to take over.

* * *

When they arrive, Cal can immediately tell that Gillian has been here before. The way she parks the car; the way she walks inside and approaches the bar. It is a nice location, not too stylish but rather comfortable. Cal likes it at first sight although he would prefer to resent it. He doesn't want to like it since she was here with _him_.

Gillian takes a seat on one of the barstools. The heightened sitting position pushes the hem of her already quite short dress still higher. There is a lot of soft skin visible between the hem of her dress and the sexy high heels she is wearing. Inside, he is growling. If she went here dressed like that, he can consider himself lucky that it was an old friend who hit on her and not some random stranger so that it could have ended much more dangerously. He always checks her out but now that it all came out in the open, it feels different, even more intense. Cal doesn't know how much she saw in his eyes back when they were in her office, but he was jealous when she told him about the other man and – caveman that he is – would like to mark her as his territory if possible although he knows that she would resent the thought.

The decision to come here was spontaneous. Once he had asked her and she had agreed, he didn't want to take it back. 70% of his decisions in life were spontaneous. Bloody hell, who was he kidding? More like 90%. Nevertheless, he has no plan what to do next and takes a seat on the barstool beside her for now.

* * *

The bartender puts the drinks they ordered down in front of them. Gillian takes a first sip without clinking glasses, aware that Cal is watching her askance. She should be... nicer, friendlier, but somehow it doesn't work. They might have cleared things up and confirmed that they both want the same thing, that the attraction is mutual. He even brought up love. Those were words, though, and this is reality.

She has no idea how to go from being friends (let alone the distorted version of friends they have been during the last months) to the next level. Well, technically she has a pretty good idea but since this is her and Cal, the only safe bet is that it won't happen as it normally does. Again, her thoughts are stuck. Why does Cal want to be here? Does he expect her to tell him in detail what happened despite the fact that she already refused to do it? And moreover, how does he expect the evening to end? Does he expect her to go home with him? Is she ready for that?

Gillian turns to face Cal and catches him checking out her legs. "See anything interesting?"

The words come naturally to her. This is familiar territory. He always checks her out, and at times, she picks up on it and tries to beat him at his own game. Usually, they banter some more and that's it and this is what she expects to happen now. Save that it doesn't. Cal's eyes darken and Gillian recognizes the need and longing that she saw in her office when he asked her to take him to the bar.

"Yes, luv, I do," he answers hoarsely.

And suddenly, she becomes aware that for once she has the upper hand. All those months, she has been thinking he didn't want her the way she wants him, but here they are and everything is different. Cal probably is as insecure as she is when it comes to what to do next although he would never admit it. Gillian knows that beneath his boorish manners, Cal can be a perfect gentleman (when he wants to that is). He most likely wants her to set the pace. The possibilities make her dizzy. There is a tingle of excitement in her stomach. Gillian sees in Cal's face that he noticed the change in her expression. He doesn't know, though, what to expect. Well, he should better be prepared.

"So, tell me, Cal." She leans forward. "How was your day?" Gillian uses a tone of voice that he probably never heard before since it is reserved for, let's say, _special occasions_, deliberately ignoring his answer as a provocation.

* * *

The game is on. Cal was surprised by her first, rather daring, question, but the second one surprises him even more. It is an innocent question on the surface, but something else is going on. Albeit he wants her to set the pace, it is even more exciting that she apparently decided to do more than that. This is a challenge and he is more than willing to compete with her. Let alone that her voice is so seductive. He wants to hear more of it.

Just when he takes a breath to give her a witty answer, he realizes that this is what she expects. And since this day and evening are about anything but meeting expectations, he decides to tell her the truth.

"My day started out horrible," Cal begins, noticing the astonishment in her eyes. Gillian didn't expect honesty. "I wanted to talk to you since, you know, you expected me to approach you, but I didn't know how to do it and granted us both a wonderful day of anticipation. And then we cleared things up and my day got better. And now we're here," he ends, deliberately leaving her in the dark about what exactly he is feeling at the moment.

_See? You dared me and I joined you,_ his smirk tells her and the smile she bites back shows that she likes it.

"Are you trying to woo me?" Gillian asks after a brief pause, using _that_ voice again.

Oh, _how much_ he loves that game.

"Actually, I am luv," he answers. "Is it working?"

* * *

_Is it working?_ She is short of grabbing him and doing... whatever comes to her mind. God, his lips are so... inviting. Gillian reminds herself, though, that the plan is to gain and keep the upper hand. Therefore, she settles for an even more seductive _maybe_ as an answer that makes him swallow. _Take that, Cal._

"Were you drunk that night?" His question comes out of the blue. She can see that he didn't plan on asking it either. So, she decides to give him at least so much.

"No, I wasn't." Not what he wanted to hear, she can tell. Much easier to explain away what happened with the influence of alcohol. He definitely needs a little encouragement and she is more than willing to give it to him. "But I like it when my _company_ has the same drinks. Such a taste adventure if you kiss."

Cal glimpses at the drinks in front of the them. They have the same drinks. Scotch. _Yes, Cal, same drinks, _Gillian thinks, remembering the night on the balcony when she had drunk his scotch and he came out of the mine, looking so foolishly with his protective helmet, and yet, he was so sexy. She wanted to kiss him so badly that night. Then again, she wanted to kiss him so badly _so often_ that she can't even remember the single occasions.

Instinctively, Cal licks his lips and she can't help to look at these lips that tasted so good yesterday. What is even better, though, is how he can't help looking at _her_ lips.

* * *

Cal knows what Gillian is doing and he likes it. No, he _loves_ it. Who would have thought that Dr. Foster has such a talent for verbal foreplay. A talent he could obviously improve.

"Did you two have the same drinks on that evening?"

The question is out before he can give it some thought. No matter how much he enjoys their banter, his jealousy is still there and found a way to the surface. It's a mood killer and he makes it even worse by looking around, trying to spot his rival. Silly, plain silly. It's not as if she gave him a description. Most likely to avoid that something like this happens. Yet, he doesn't seem to be able to stop, wants to provoke a reaction.

"Cal..."

He hears her voice, feels her soothing touch on his arm. If only there weren't these haunting images in his head. Gillian and another man, touching her, kissing her. And the worst of it all is that she willingly participates. Did she banter with the other man, too, that way?

"Cal..."

When he doesn't react, she leans forward even more so that she slips from her barstool and has to steady herself with one hand against his thigh. Not that he minds it. But the unwanted imagines in his head are still there.

"Did you say that to him, too?" Cal asks her with barely suppressed anger although he is highly aware that she doesn't deserve it. Any of it. "That part about the kissing and the same drinks?"

Gillian stares at him hard. He can see how she bites back a snarky response in favor of a real answer, recognizing his question as what it is – badly hidden jealousy. However, it is an answer Cal doesn't expect.

"No, I didn't," she states offended. "And by the way, you can stop looking for him. He is not here. As far as I know, he already left town. And aside from that...," she makes a brief pause. "This is not the bar where I met him."

If she wanted to distract him, it is working. "What? I told you to..."

"...to take you to the bar where I met him. Yes, I know that, Cal, but I am not your retriever. You don't throw a stick and I run off to get it for you. I make my own decisions." Her gaze softens. "Look, Cal, I guess I know why you wanted me to take you here, well, I mean _there_. Either you hoped to meet him so that you could knock him down. And don't...," she raises a hand to put a stop to his objection. "Don't even try to deny it. I saw the way you were looking around for him. Or...," her voice trails off, a flicker of insecurity in her eyes. "Or your reason is the same as mine because I don't want to relive or replace old memories. I want to create new memories – with you."

Her honesty, mixed with shy hope, accomplishes what his sheer willpower couldn't – the images in his head disappear.

"I didn't take you to the other bar because I don't even _like_ it. I went there because I felt miserable and I don't feel miserable now. This bar is my favorite bar."

_She took him to her favorite place._ Suddenly, Cal likes the bar very much. He smiles or rather grins from ear to ear and the next thing he knows, no feels, is her lips against his. Gillian has to stretch herself a little because he is still sitting on his barstool what makes him taller than his usual height. Cal doesn't struggle with his height, but he likes the unfamiliar difference. That way, he can grab her even more possessively and enfold her in his arms.

* * *

There is a phone ringing somewhere, but she doesn't care; Cal's kiss tastes so good. Then she realizes that it is _that_ ringtone and _her_ phone. She uses a special ringtone for _him_ because he kept calling her, and that way, she could hang up on him without even having to take a look at who it was calling her. Gillian spoke to him on the phone once to apologize and clear things up, told him that she was sorry, that it had been a mistake, anyway, and that there was no chance of a revival. At first, she was flattered that he was so insistent considering what had happened between them. Annoyance took over soon, though, and she made it pretty clear to him that she wouldn't tolerate his harassment any longer. After that, the calls eventually stopped a few days ago.

Gillian broke their kiss when she realized who it was calling her. It didn't feel right to kiss Cal when she knew it was him at the other end of the phone.

"Don't stop, luv," Cal mumbles, his hand on the back of her neck softly pulling her toward him until he sees the look on her face and takes his hands off of her so quickly as if she was on fire.

"That was him," he rather states than asks as she pushes a button on her phone, declines to answer the call and then disconnects the phone. Ironic, how she repeats what she did that evening but for completely different reasons.

"He still contacts you? You gave him your number?" Cal's voice is an angry growl, his questions showering down on her mercilessly. Gillian could hit herself that she let him catch her facial expression that told him everything. One step forward, two steps back.

It was the only thing she didn't tell him, not because she deliberately wanted to hide it but because there simply was nothing to tell. After all, he already had stopped contacting her. Right now, though, all these rational thoughts are of no use. Cal's face is a mixture of rage, disappointment and jealousy. Before she can launch into an explanation, he jumps up and heads to the men's room.

Gillian waits for ten minutes. Then she goes to the men's room and knocks. The entrance is around a corner and the bar is not crowed. Maybe she is lucky and nobody else is inside. She waits briefly and when there is no response, she knocks again.

"Cal?"

The door opens and reveals a good looking man right in front of her, smiling a bit too smugly for her taste.

"I guess, you're looking for him," he points over his shoulder. In the background, Gillian sees Cal, pacing back and forth. One of his hands is decorated with skinned knuckles. Obviously, he slammed his fist against the wall once or twice. On one side, it is almost sexy how jealous and protective he is. On the other side, she files away for later analysis whether anger management will be an issue between them. She is used to be the center of his attention but not the center of his rage.

The man walks out and Cal approaches Gillian, his body vibrating and wobbling until he stops in the door frame to fix his gaze on her. As far as she can see, there are no other men in the restroom. She blocks his way and uses the chance to give him an explanation.

"I gave him my phone number before I decided to... before I went home with him. It was completely harmless. He was a friend from college, Cal. We met each other after so many years and exchanged our phone numbers. Nothing unusual about that. Yes, he tried to contact me a few times afterwards, but I told him to stop and he stopped. That's why I didn't tell you. There was nothing to tell."

"But he called you again and you didn't delete his phone number," Cal says reproachfully albeit his anger seems to have cooled down a bit.

"Seriously, Cal? After all the women and affairs, you of all people judge me?" She understands his anger and jealousy, is able to put herself in his shoes easily. Gillian is not willing, though, to condone his subtle accusations. "_I don't know_ why he called me again. And please excuse me if I forgot to delete his number because I was so caught up in pondering on how to clear things between us. I am here with _you_, Cal. I didn't sleep with him because of _you_. What else do you want? My soul? Fine, take it. You already own the rest of me."

Gillian has barely finished her last sentence when Cal pulls her toward him to kiss her and they tumble against the opposite wall. Obviously, her explanation worked.

"I didn't sleep with as many women as you probably think I did...," he mutters in between, "...but I always thought of you when I did."

It's a simple statement. Its meaning, however, spreads through her body like wildfire and reminds her of something that she never planned to tell him. That was before the intensity of this moment took her breath away though. Gillian kisses him back hard, causing Cal's hands to clutch her body even tighter. She will definitely have bruises tomorrow, but she will worship them unlike the ones on her breast.

"I thought of you, too," Gillian breathes as Cal kisses his way down her neck and cleavage. She lets her head fall back against the wall and tells him everything in whispered words albeit she didn't intend to give him any further details. Then again, this is not about giving him details to feed his jealous imagination. It's about bringing home the message.

_When they made it to his bed that night, all she could think of was Cal. Gillian knew that deep inside she wanted to stop what happened, but her feelings were this irritating mixture of her efforts to forget Cal and her arousal because in her mind it _was_ Cal, and not the other man, touching and kissing her. The fantasy combined with reality turned her on so much that it was embarrassing. That's why she didn't notice that his kisses turned into, even though tender, bites, leaving bruises. She was too far gone already. To be honest, maybe she wouldn't have stopped him at all if it hadn't been for one thing. The moment he pushed his hand between her legs, tearing at her thong; the moment she almost came... undone, he said her name. And it wasn't Cal's voice. The illusion was destroyed in the split of a second. All of a sudden, she felt like a drunk being dried out. That was the moment she told him she couldn't do it and left._

Sometime during her admission, confession, whatever it was, Cal stopped kissing her and fixed his intense gaze on her another time. Gillian can literally see how the scene takes place in his mind and she hopes that he replaces the other man with himself as she does it every time her imagination runs riot. She is almost as aroused as she was that night even if they are nowhere near what happened then. At least for now.

Cal doesn't say anything, but apparently he takes the arousal on her face as permission because he pushes his body against hers and pulls impatiently at her dress that is much too tight to give him better access. Gillian knows what he wants. He wants it to be _his hand_ tearing at her thong. There is no way she will let something happen here though. They are more than lucky that no one needed to use the bathroom in the last few minutes and although the bar is not crowded, their luck will run out soon. She is into a lot of things but putting on a show and offering others an opportunity for voyeurism is none of them.

"Been there, done that," Gillian reminds Cal a little out of breath of what happened in the elevator. "I think it's time for something new."

_Is she ready yet?_ It seems downright ridiculous that she asked herself that question only moments go. She is.

"My place or yours?" she whispers into his ear.

* * *

**I would have _loved_ to see such a scene on the show. **

**Their incredible chemistry would have _melted_ the screen away.**

**So, what do you say? His place or hers? ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** After all the angst, I suddenly found myself in the - for me rather uncharted - territory of writing fluff. But I think that Cal & Gillian deserve it after all they've been through.

Thank you for your reviews and especially for letting me know your thoughts on "his place or hers". 3 of you voted for Cal's place and 3 for Gillian's. There also was a suggestion to let it happen in a car (but as hot and tempting as it was, I'll save it for another time ;)).

**wildhoneyfitri1 & Blacky Kitten:** Your assumption and the reason behind was spot-on! The mind reader award goes to you.

**madmother2 & SassyCop:** I liked your suggestion and the reasons behind so much, though, that I found a way to mention it in the last part of this chapter. Hope you like it!

And here we go... Rating for language and content. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own LTM and its characters (unfortunately). This is just for fun.

* * *

When she wakes up, Gillian immediately knows that something is different. She moves under the blanket. Yes, something definitely is different because she doesn't sleep naked usually. Gillian opens her eyes and sees a wall and a nightstand that don't belong into her bedroom. _She is not at home._ For the split of a second, her drowsy mind isn't able to catch up with reality and she almost panics. Then she hears soft snoring behind her, smells the familiar scent of the pillow.

_My place or yours?_ She is in Cal's bedroom.

Gillian carefully turns round to face him. Even in his sleep, one of Cal's hands is stretched out as if he wants to touch her. He touched her a lot last night; she blushes all over remembering. Cal was passionate and full of energy when they made love. Now, he looks so peaceful and content that she can't help but lean over and give him a little peck on his lips, hoping that it won't wake him.

Cal stirs and blinks.

"Sorry," she mumbles, "didn't want to wake you up."

The blinking turns into a broad grin as soon as his eyes manage to focus on her face.

"Morning, darling," he murmurs, wasting no time to move closer toward her.

Gillian holds her breath. If she is naked, then so is he. Of course, they are, considering what happened. Then again, that was last night, the heat of the moment, dim light and all that and this is broad daylight. Reality. Suddenly, she is very aware of anything that is new and unfamiliar between them what is basically everything given the circumstances. Just when an uncomfortable awkwardness starts to mix with a very comfortable anticipation due to his nearness, another thought crosses her mind. Wait a minute... _Broad daylight? _Gillian sits up abruptly.

"Cal, we overslept," she announces. "We should be at work by now." She is about to jump out of bed when she feels his hand on her shoulder, softly pulling her back beside him.

"No work for us today, darling," he mutters. "Told them we have an urgency meeting with a potential new client."

"You did what? When?"

For a man who couldn't wait to rip her clothes off, he obviously was very serene and reasonable last night. Well, at least _after_ he had ripped her clothes off.

"Last night," he states as if it was nothing out of the ordinary to take care of business matters in the middle of the night. "I never sleep through the night and sent an e-mail to the office when I woke up in between."

Gillian relaxes and realizes two things. For one thing, Cal was so considerate that he planned ahead and got them a day off. For another thing, he didn't just inform their staff that they would take a day off (something that would have stirred office gossip up like wildfire) but made up an appointment so that there would be no rumors. Most likely he did it for her benefit because there hasn't been time as yet to talk about how to handle things from here. Whatever _here_ was.

"You are a very far-seeing man," Gillian says teasingly as his hand slips under the covers to trace the shape of her body.

"You didn't honestly think that I would let you out of my bed that soon once I finally have you in here, did you?" Cal tries to match her teasing tone of voice, but his words are rather an impatient growl that gives her the shivers in the best possible way.

The way he is touching her, it is a rhetorical question either way; he doesn't actually expect a reply and that's a good thing because Gillian isn't able to come up with one. Frankly, she doesn't think at all right now. His touch is so wonderfully distracting that _thinking_ is the last thing she wants to do. She closes her eyes and gives Cal a content humming as an answer.

"Very sexy." It isn't clear whether he refers to her humming or to her body that he keeps caressing tenderly. His voice is right beside her ear. Obviously, he has moved even closer. She can't tell, has closed her eyes, trembling with anticipation of what will happen next. "You should better beware of the consequences."

"Oh, yeah?" Gillian laughs hoarsely, unable to hide the pleasure in her voice, intertwining her legs with his.

"Yeah. Want to know about the sexy things I can do?"

Cal leans back to look at her and she opens her eyes when she senses it.

"You already showed me last night," she says, blushing all over again.

"If you think that's all I have to offer, you have no idea."

He presses his body against hers and she gasps when he starts to cover her body with kisses, working his way down excruciatingly slow.

* * *

It's been a while since Gillian had breakfast at 2 PM, but somehow it took them longer and longer to get out of bed. She even dozed off again when Cal took a shower. After that, he announced to go downstairs to make them a delicious breakfast. Gillian feels certain that their understanding of a _delicious breakfast_ is not consistent. But whatever he will serve (most likely bacon and eggs or maybe even beans, bottom line – everything she usually doesn't like or eat for breakfast) will be delicious today. Nothing can rain on her parade.

Gillian showers, too, and slips into his shirt that he flung on the ground regardless. This way, she can inhale his scent she is already missing.

When she goes downstairs, she hears familiar giggling and freezes, preparing to turn around, go up again and get dressed properly. Well, at least as properly as you can get dressed when you have to put on the clothes you wore the day before and didn't take off carefully. She is dead certain that her dress will have the one or other crease. It's already too late though; the creak of one of the steps gave her presence away and the two people in the kitchen turn around to look at her – Cal and Emily.

Emily smiles from ear to ear when she sees her.

"Dad, you didn't tell me Gillian is here."

Then she takes Gillian's outfit in and her expression turns into a huge question mark. Cal is standing behind Emily, shrugging his shoulders apologetically as if to say s_orry, I couldn't tell her as yet._ Instead he says out loud, "Look, Gill, Emily came over from college to give me a surprise. She thought I would still be at work and wanted to cook dinner for me tonight."

_Dinner for me..._

Gillian loves Emily and knows that Emily likes her very much, or maybe even loves her, too. Right now, though, she feels like an intruder. Like the proverbial fifth wheel. This is Cal's house. She doesn't live here. Only he and Emily do.

"Gillian..."

Despite her confusion, Emily walks over to the stairs and clasps her in her arms impetuously.

"Are you...?" She hugs Gillian to herself and tries at the same time to turn around and look at Cal so that Gillian almost loses balance and falls off the stairs. "Are you two...?"

Gillian's mind is racing, thinking about how to find the right words to tell Emily when she hears Cal's voice – calm and collected.

"Yes, we are, Em. Yes, we are."

And that's all it takes. No more explanations are necessary. Emily turns her back on Cal, clinging to Gillian as if she never wants to let her go again, while Gillian is looking squarely into Cal's eyes that are so tender and loving, watching that special moment narrowly.

Gillian is happy and relieved that Emily reacts this way, doesn't know about the confession her father made months ago and that Emily has been waiting for this moment at least as much as Cal and she.

Since Gillian put on Cal's shirt and _only_ Cal's shirt, meaning that she is wearing _nothing_ underneath, embracing his daughter doesn't exactly feel comfortable though. She went downstairs dressed like that to seduce Cal and not to bid Emily welcome.

Cal's eyes trail Gillian's naked legs and then search for a thong or a bra showing underneath his shirt. He grins at her when he doesn't find anything. _Bad girl_, he mouths, just before she kisses Emily on the forehead and excuses herself to get changed, allowing father and daughter a couple of minutes among themselves.

* * *

As much as Gillian wanted to stay, it still took powers of persuasion to stop her from leaving once she got dressed. Emily didn't accept her doubts. _You need to spend some time alone with your father. I don't want to make a mess of your plans. _To every objection, Emily had a reply, and in the end, it was Emily's _please stay_ Gillian was helpless against. That – plus, she had heard what Emily had said to Cal when she had been upstairs getting changed. _I'm so happy, dad. Love you so much. Both of you._

So, they have a very late breakfast together that is followed soon by an early dinner. In between and in the meantime, they talk a lot while the domestic feeling is making Gillian dizzy in a very nice way.

Clothes-wise, they are an odd pairing. Cal is wearing his pajama bottoms and a tee. He didn't bother to get changed into something more formal, of course, whilst Gillian is wearing her tight dress and high heels. But somehow, Emily's casual clothing balances the weird mix out.

"Not sure which look I prefer – my shirt with nothing underneath of this morning that told me that you had planned to seduce me or the rumpled dress you are wearing now that reminds me of last night when I ripped it off," Cal whispers to Gillian in passing out of Emily's earshot.

No, upon closer examination, there is nothing even remotely weird or odd about anything. This is perfect.

After they finished dinner, Emily insisted on doing the dishes and Gillian jumped at the chance to talk to Cal alone, telling him that she wants to sleep at home tonight. Alone. He doesn't like it one bit.

"Emily doesn't mind if you stay the night. She is not a child anymore. You saw her; she is happy that we are together. Just as happy as her father." Cal winks at her, aware that it is difficult for her to resist his charm on a normal day and this day is far from normal. Gillian doesn't break down though.

"It's not because of Emily. For a start, I need spare clothes," she tries to explain.

"Then go and get them and come back," he has an answer for everything.

"Cal...," she starts again, but his body movements get increasingly frantic and she realizes that she needs to calm him down so that he understands. "_Cal_..." Gillian grabs hold of his face and he eventually stops moving.

"It's not because of Emily," she repeats. "And it's not just because I need some other clothes." She takes a deep breath. "Last night was wonderful."

"And this morning," he mumbles.

"Yes, and this morning," she confirms smiling. "And spending time with Emily and you." The look in Cal's eyes softens only to darken again when he hears Gillian say, "But I need some time by myself to process everything."

_You didn't honestly think that I would let you out of my bed that soon once I finally have you in here, did you? _she remembers the words he said to her in the morning and pulls him toward her.

"I won't change my mind about us," she assures him and sees the relief in his eyes. How can a man as self-confident, bordering on arrogant, as Cal Lightman be so insecure when it comes to her? This will always remain a mystery to Gillian. "And the next time, I want you to come over to my place and show me some more of the sexy things you can do. Or maybe just have dinner with me."

"Aye, luv, sounds promising." His face brightens with a smile; his hands rest on her hips. "No worries that I will claim your place as my territory?"

"Not in the least," Gillian replies and surprises Cal even more with her next words. "In fact, I want you to. There was a reason I didn't want to take my old friend from college to my house." Cal winces at the reminder. "But this is you. And I want you in my house. I want you in my life."

Cal still has a hard time letting her go. Her admissions are much more than he dared to hope for though. Maybe he shouldn't tempt fate.

"So... this next time... at your place... can it be tomorrow?" he asks invitingly.

"If Emily is back at college, then yes," Gillian replies. "Otherwise, you will have to wait a couple of days. I want you to spend time with her as long as she is here."

Cal wants to spend time with his daughter, too. It's just that he also wants to spend time with Gillian. He can already feel her impending absence like physical pain and frowns because Emily told him that she intends to stay over the weekend.

"Any chance of an office shag to bridge the time?" he teases. This is familiar terrain. Cal the master of innuendo and banter.

"I'm going to say good night to Emily. And I will not acknowledge this question or deem it worthy of an answer." Gillian turns around and walks into the kitchen, offering him an unimpeded possibility to check her out.

"I know what you're doing," she calls out to him across her shoulder.

"Nah, you don't," Cal responds and she can hear the impertinent grin in his voice.

As much as she loves Emily, Gillian hopes she doesn't stay too long this time. Otherwise, she maybe will have to reconsider Cal's suggestion regarding their office shag.

* * *

**There are one or two issues I feel the need to address in the next chapter. **

**Besides that, the story is drawing to a close. It is almost told plot-wise and I don't want to string it out.****  
**

******No more angst, I guess, but next chapter will probably be more serious than this one.**

******Hope all of you are still enjoying the story no matter whether it's angst or fluff or something in between.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **First of all, let me say sorry for the delay in updating. My muse and I had a hard time cooperating.

In this chapter, I wanted to show that, as happy Cal and Gillian are now that they are a couple, it still wouldn't be easy (especially considering some of Cal's character traits).

Aside from that, did I say no more angst? Well, there is a bit of angst here, and I hope you don't mind. The parts in italics are a flashback, but I think that's pretty obvious.

Thank you so much for your constant support and your thoughtful, witty reviews. They really make my day.

**Disclaimer: **I will never get over the fact that this wonderful show was cancelled but, no, I own nothing regarding LTM (although we/the fans maybe do own Callian in a way).

* * *

There is a storm approaching. The wind is already vehement, and the sky is a dark bulk of intertwined clouds – harbingers of the severe weather that is supposed to hit the city at night. Other than that, the weather is symbolic of the current state of their relationship.

Cal and Gillian called it a day and are on their way to his house. They always spend the night at his or her house; the nights they spent apart from each other since they are a couple can be counted on the fingers of one hand. After the rather turbulent previous evening, though, she insisted on driving to work by her own car in the morning, and Cal got the message loud and clear. She was still mad at him, not sure whether she wanted to spend the night together or apart, and by taking her car, she could leave the various options open. He doesn't know her reasons but when he asked her later on, she agreed to stay with him tonight. Cal saw the brief hesitation, the short flicker of a doubt before she nodded and said yes. However, he was too relieved to address it. No need to add fuel to the fire.

The taillights of Gillian's car are somewhere amidst traffic ahead of him. When they are driving separately, he always makes sure that he drops back so that he can watch her car. One of many things he does that are meant to be protective but de facto are probably rather oppressive from her perspective. She lets him do it, anyway, perhaps even appreciates it most of the time, but not always; he knows so much. Sometimes he can see that it is too much for her, that he almost leaves her no room to breathe.

It surprises Cal every day anew how easily he and Gillian accomplished the transition from business partners and friends to lovers. Basically, there was no transition at all – or rather the transition had already taken place in recent years, and the last step they took some weeks ago after their talk and their trip to the bar was almost negligible compared to all the feelings they'd had suppressed for so long and that were eventually set free. Not that he intends to ever let go of that new, exciting part of their relationship. It never ceases to amaze him how much he wants her.

Then again, the fact that they make a good match, complement each other, doesn't come without a price. They are both highly intelligent, strong-willed, and sometimes even stubborn, personalities. Cal always liked to argue with Gillian. He is a master of twisting somebody's words, and he loves that Gillian is a worthy opponent. Actually, she is the only one who is able to outsmart and silence him. Depending on the situation, he sometimes likes it and sometimes not, but the fact remains that she is the only one who can do this to him, and as much as it annoys him sometimes, the mere thought of it turns him on constantly. Yes, he wants her – her body, her mind, her soul. Let alone that he loves her.

Maybe this is also part of the problem. Besides his manners that is. This demanding behavior, bordering on possessive, when it comes to her. To Cal it is crystal clear that this is it. He. Gillian. Together for the rest of their lives. No need to talk about it, and aside from that, shouldn't she of all people be able to see it in his face and hear it in his voice? Of course, Cal thought about telling Gillian that he loves her even so, but somehow the moment never was right or he chickened out at the last moment. Either way, neither of them did say it as yet, and considering her history with men, he is aware that she probably is waiting for him to say it first.

A drizzle has started to fall as if the weather wants to lull them and make them believe that there will be no storm. The angry clouds tell another story though. It is almost dark even if it is only late afternoon. Cal is glad that they will be home soon. Being outside, when the storm will take full effect, will be dangerous. And there it is again – his protective instinct when it comes to her. He wants Gillian to be safe; he wants her to be with him. And that's all he wants.

So, why is it so hard for him to ease up? What is he trying to prove when he tackles her about something as he did the previous night although he knows that it is unnecessary? Part of it is the old story that he needs to prove over and over again to himself that Gillian won't leave him like his mother and his ex-wife. Cal is aware that this is also the reason why she tolerates most of his behavior. She is a psychologist and knows all about his separation anxiety. But the main reason simply is that this is his default setting regarding her. Cal is so head over heels in love with Gillian that he, the typical alpha male, won't stop until he knows everything about her and is in control of whatever she lets him.

Therefore, it is her who has to set limits, who has to tell him to back off for the sake of their relationship. As she did last night. Cal knows he has gotten under her skin as deep as she has gotten under his, knows that she is also head over heels in love with him. He can see it in her face, in her eyes, every day. And he loves her even more for the reason that she somehow manages to put up with his intermittent irritating behavior.

The constant drumming of the raindrops that fall onto his windshield calms Cal, and he lets his thoughts stray to the previous evening. As soon as they will arrive at his house, he will tell her he is sorry and will make it up to her. She deserves as much.

* * *

_The evening started out as usual. A perfect, normal evening just like all their evenings these days. Cooking together, having dinner together and afterwards some talking or cuddling on the couch while they both were reading. Or else, they didn't even make it to the cooking part because they had to feed some other kind of hunger. No matter what, it was always perfect._

_They were standing in his kitchen back to back. Gillian was slicing tomatoes and cucumber for the salad, and Cal was preparing the pasta. He didn't know why he had to ask the question on that evening of all evenings, but it had been poking around in his mind for a while, and he wanted to get rid of it._

"_So, tell me, luv, did he call you again?"_

_The sound of the knife Gillian was using to slice the vegetables stopped abruptly. She knew who he was referring to without any further explanation._

"_Say again?" she asked after a brief pause, and the tone of her voice should have told him to just let it go. Of course, he did not._

"_You heard me, luv," Cal responded, keeping his tone of voice playful and light-hearted on purpose, disregarding that it probably only made her more furious. _

"_Yes, I heard you, Cal." Suddenly, her voice was much closer. She was standing beside him, radiating anger. "And I can't believe you're asking me that."_

"_Just a simple question. Did he call? Yes or no." _

_Cal was aware that he should stop it, but somehow he couldn't. He was still mad at her old friend from college, the man who had needed only one evening to get Gillian Foster into his bed. The images of him and Gillian in bed together kept flashing through his mind frequently, tormenting him. Cal is the jealous type. He simply wasn't used to the fact that his jealousy seemed to control him and not vice versa as it should be. _

"_So, you think _what_? That he keeps calling me every day, and I _forgot_ to tell you?" _

_Gillian was getting angrier by the minute. Her voice was steady, but that was due to her self-control. The words came out faster than usual, like a verbal attack. That was her tell when she was really angry with him. His jealousy was an issue between them. He'd always had proprietary manners but since they were a couple, it had gotten worse. A new client. The delivery man. You name it. Any man who looked at her a second too long, or heaven forbid, tried to touch her, even if it was totally harmless, should better be prepared for the bully Cal Lightman could be. Fortunately, Cal didn't act on it aside from some snide remarks or his aggressive body language. The message, however, was obvious. She was his territory. Gillian had told him more than once to back off. It never lasted long though._

_Cal heard the anger in her voice, but he also heard something else. Hurt. It always proceeded in the same way. He went too far and only stopped when he realized that he was about to hurt her feelings. Or had already hurt them. Like now._

"_Forget it," he relented. "I'm sorry I asked. Of course, you would have told me."_

_Her blue eyes pierced through him. Then she walked over to her purse and got something out of it. Walking back to him, she offered Cal her cell phone._

"_I will only do this once, Cal," Gillian said. "But for the sake of your inner piece. Here. Go on. Check my contacts. I deleted his phone number. And check the list of my incoming calls. He doesn't call me anymore." _

_Cal's look jumped back and forth between her face and the phone she was holding out to him. Then he shook his head and didn't take it. Gillian sighed relieved. He had decided to retreat. Not all hope was lost. Now that he had asked, though, there was one thing she needed to tell him._

"_Before I deleted his number, I called him one last time to tell him once and for all that he should stop trying to contact me. I told him that we're together, and he never called me again afterwards."_

_He still had been interested in her. However, when he had heard that she was with another man, something in his voice had changed that hadn't been there before when she had told him to back off. Resignation. Acceptance. After that, there had been no calls from him anymore._

_Cal stared at her. Yet again, she was the reasonable one of them, had handled things the right way immediately whereas he had been waiting for weeks to argue with her for no reason. "When?" was all he asked, the jealousy gone. "When did you call him?"_

_She shrugged. "Right when I was home the day after our first night together. Maybe you remember it vaguely. The bar. You and me. Ending up naked in your bed."_

_The way she phrased it told Cal that she was still mad at him. Gillian is the romantic type. Granted, their first night together had been more about pleasure and release than about romance simply because they had been waiting too long for it to happen. However, she would never describe it that way – with those words and such short sentences. Another sign how much he had hurt her._

"_I'm sorry, Gill." Cal really was. The problem being that he always was sorry _after_ he had already hurt her. "You know this is not about me not trusting you, right? Because I trust you. Unconditionally."_

"_I know__, Cal," Gillian said, her anger vanishing slowly, making room for determination. "And I know you're overly jealous and protective. After all, I have forgiven you every time in the past, but this has to stop. I could as well ask you for your phone to check your contacts and call history. Maybe you are still in contact with some of your flings or at least didn't delete their phone numbers for whatever reason. Maybe you still call Detective Wallowski about the one or other case and just don't think about it because as opposed to me you are allowed to do such kind of things. Double standards. You always had them."_

_She was right. Cal still had Detective Wallowki's phone number (although Gillian was wrong insofar as he didn't call her anymore) and perhaps a few others from former flings. He hadn't even been aware of it, hadn't wasted much thought on it until now. Gillian saw the answer on his face and snorted._

"_N__o more double standards, Cal. Don't think I'm not jealous now and then. I just handle it in another way. And you have to learn it, too."_

_Her admission surprised him. Gillian always had been good at hiding her emotions from him, and the fact that they were a couple these days, made it even more difficult for him to read her. He hadn't known that she was jealous. It surprised him, but moreover it turned him on._

_The water in the pot on the stove was boiling, waiting for Cal to put in the pasta. Instead, he turned off the stove._

_"You are jealous?" It was a rhetorical question; she just had told him that. His voice suddenly had the edgy quality it got when he was aroused. It made her shiver._

_Gillian had doubts whether she wanted this right now. She stepped back and he followed, stepping forward without touching her albeit allowing no distance between them. They repeated it several more times – stepping back, stepping forward, no distance – until her back collided with the wall behind her. It was not the first time they interrupted cooking and ended up here. By now, she knew all the signs. The almost imperceptible change of his eye color, the low growl that found its way in his voice, let alone the way he looked at her. _

_They never talk about it, but it is this side of him, this _dangerous_ side, she loves the most. It is what defines him, and it makes his love for her so special because it is raw and untamed, not calculated and controlled like the love of her ex-husband. They are the perfect opposites – dangerous is his default setting (sometimes she thinks that she is the only reason he at least attempts to control himself, would otherwise alienate everybody all the time and not even care) while her default setting is affectionate. Then again, she has this hidden side that only he seems to be able to bring to the surface. A side that relishes the danger that is Cal Lightman._

_He looked at her, obviously pondering on whether to wait for permission until he took this any further or simply assume she wanted it, too. They were in the middle of an argument. Cal hadn't said anything regarding Gillian's justified reproach that he had double standards. Yet, here they were, and all he could think of was how much he wanted her no matter if it meant that they had to delay their dispute in the process._

_So, he went for assuming she wanted it, too, because he couldn't read her for the world. Not in a moment like this. His hands found their way underneath her blouse, touching bare skin; his lips caressed her neck much more tenderly than she probably had expected, considering the dangerous mood he was in. When Cal's touch became more urgent, and he started to unbutton her blouse to get better access, Gillian softly grabbed his wrists._

"_Cal..."_

_He stopped. From her fitful breathing, he could tell that she didn't actually want him to stop. Well, at least not her body. Her mind was a whole different matter probably. Of course, he would stop and back away as soon as she told him so. He didn't believe, though, that she would. And he intended to make sure that she would not._

"_Please," Cal whispered, pressing his body against hers, still kissing her neck, finding that soft spot that made her melt away. "Please, Gill. I need this. I need you. Let me have you. Please."_

_He could feel her resolve crumbling, feel her shiver with anticipation. One more kiss on that certain spot, then he heard a stifled moan and felt how she softly pushed her hips against his. That was her tell. His free pass for _you can do whatever you want with me_. Gillian released his wrists. Tonight they wouldn't have dinner together. There was a different kind of hunger they had to feed._

* * *

Captivated by his thoughts, Cal almost misses the driveway to his house. The rain has gotten heavier, and he can barely see anything. Gillian's car is already parked; she is walking quickly toward the front door. The wind also has freshened up; there is no use to put up an umbrella and although the front door is only a few steps away, her clothes are already soaked.

What bothers Cal even more, though, is the tree right beside his house that is bending much more than he has ever seen before. He watches closely, trying to figure out the possibility that it will crash into his house and which rooms they should rather avoid tonight. When it happens, it happens all too fast. Cal sees the branch bend more and more until it is about to fall off. Gillian doesn't notice it, the storm being much too loud. He jumps out of his car in a flash, running toward her, yelling her name, but she doesn't hear a thing, doesn't see it coming, when the branch hits her, and she is buried under it.

It is one of those moments when everything seems to happen in slow motion even if you're moving as fast as you can. Cal knows what is about to happen, but his heart still almost stops when he sees it take place. There is too much wind and rain. He isn't able to see whether she is moving or not. Then he has reached her, pulls the rather heavy branch away as carefully as possible and gets on his knees, one thought crossing his mind over and over. He didn't even apologize for his immature, possessive behavior the previous evening, let alone his double standards. And he desperately needs to do that.

_Come on, Gill, don't let me down. _Cal touches her face. Gillian's skin is cold and wet from the rain. The wind is tearing at his body and his clothes. They need to get indoors soon; it is getting more dangerous by the minute to stay outside. When she doesn't react, doesn't move, he feels for her pulse.

"Gill, luv, can you hear me?" Even through the storm he can make out the distress in his voice. Cal can't find a pulse and tells himself that her skin is just too cold and too wet, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her carefully since he doesn't know what kind of injuries she might have. "Gill..." Distress doesn't even begin to describe what he is feeling inside right now. He pulls out his phone and calls 911 but is placed on hold due the huge number of calls because of the storm. There is a fire in his stomach as if he drank acid. Just when Cal considers whether it will be too much of a risk to lift Gillian up and carry her inside, a thunderbolt lightens up the sky and tells him that time has run out. He has to get her into his house. Now.

* * *

**What can I say? The cliffy was a rather spontaneous decision. Don't hate me.**

**I know I took the easy way out regarding Gillian's friend from college. For this story, though, I didn't want to focus on it too much ****(maybe it is potential for a sequel someday, who knows). **

**Thank you, as always, for reading & reviewing.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N 1:** This (final) chapter picks up right where the last one ended. More A/N at the end of the chapter/story.

**Disclaimer: **What do you want to hear? Not mine. Still.

* * *

Just when Cal tries to lift Gillian up gently, she stirs and groans with pain.

"Gillian?" He shields her face with his body from the rain, the relief that she recovered consciousness overwhelming. That doesn't change the fact, though, that they have to get into the house immediately.

"Cal?" She focuses her eyes on his face. "What happened?" Gillian wants to sit up and fails, raising a hand to her forehead. "Ouch." Only now, Cal sees the blood that was covered by her hair before.

"Got hit by a branch, luv," he explains. "Think you can stand up with my help? We have to get into the house."

She nods, and after a little pulling and lifting on Cal's part, Gillian stands on wobbly legs. Even with her arm over his shoulders and his arm clasping her waist to support her, they rather stumble than walk toward the front door but somehow manage to get inside. Cal has to press against the door to close it, wind and rain trying to follow them like wild animals out to get them. Once the door is closed, the storm is a distant threat, wailing outside, whereas they are greeted by silence and darkness. The power is off.

"We need to treat your wound." Cal leads her to the dining table. Its seats are closest to the entrance. "Just sit down. I'll get the dressing."

The way Gillian sits down without arguing tells him that she has a slight shock and is in pain. He doesn't want to leave her alone if only for a brief moment. Cal squeezes her hand, and she smiles weakly at him in return. It's supposed to be her d_on't worry, I'm fine_ smile but she is anything but.

When Cal comes back, he brings some candles and lights them. Thunder and lightning illuminate the room at irregular intervals, and the rain is drumming against the windows. Nevertheless, the atmosphere inside is eerily comfortable. Gillian hasn't moved, her posture rigid. He sits down on a chair next to her, trying to study her unobtrusively as he gets out ointment, bandage and patch, putting it on the table. Cal can't tell whether her silence and tension are merely a normal reaction due to a rather harmless shock and the pain her head wound causes her or an indication that she has severe internal injuries. On any other day, he would take her to the hospital either way. Given the circumstances, he would only risk that in the latter case.

Gillian gazed into space when he came in. When she looks at him now, though, her expression is determined.

"I'm OK, Cal. Just a minor cut. That's all."

Despite his inner tension, Cal has to chuckle.

"Even a head blow doesn't stop you from reading my mind."

This time, her smile almost reaches her eyes but is forced back by the pain. Whatever she says and however she tries to calm him, she is nowhere near being fine.

"Just need to make sure, luv." Her cut really seems to be minor; at least it has stopped bleeding. And despite her laceration, she seems to be alert, coping slowly but surely with the situation. Cal pushes her sleeves up and checks her neck to see whether there are any other injuries he can't see before he attends to her head wound. "Does anything hurt aside from your head? Any problems breathing? Maybe I should check your ribs."

"Everything hurts, Cal. After all, I was hit by a branch." Gillian doesn't even pretend anymore that she is not in pain. Anyhow, Cal takes it as a good sign that she sounds a little annoyed. "But the answer is no. I don't think I have any severe injuries. I can move my legs; I can breathe. I don't have a feeling of sickness. So, I'm pretty sure I don't even have a concussion. I'm just a little dizzy, and my head hurts like hell, but that was to be expected considering what happened. "

"OK, no hospital then. At least not tonight," Cal agrees although he is not completely convinced, his worries still lingering. Out there, when he searched for her pulse and thought he found none, there was a moment, maybe just the split of a second, when he feared she was... "You were out cold," Cal whispers, reliving that awful moment. "I felt for your pulse and couldn't find it, and I thought...," he trails off; there is a lump in his throat. Gillian sees in his eyes what he feared, anyway.

"Oh God, Cal, no, I'm here. _I'm here_." She touches his face and kisses him softly.

Only when he starts to pull her in his arms, he realizes that she is shivering. She is still wearing her clothes that are even wetter than his because she lay on the ground.

"You are soaked."

Cal helps Gillian off with her coat, but her blouse also is soaked. Therefore, he helps her unbutton it and take it off, too, realizing that she has to freeze even more now.

"Let me get you a shirt. Can't give you mine. It's wet, too."

He is about to stand up when she grabs his arm and stops him.

"Just treat my wound, Cal, so that we can go to bed, and I can get warm. I'd really like to take a hot bath but since the power is off, I don't think this is a viable option tonight."

He takes her looks in, the way she is sitting there in her bra, skirt, high heels and torn pantyhose.

"You're really a sight for sore eyes," he says admiringly as he sits back down. "Very sexy, Dr. Foster."

Gillian has to laugh in spite of the uncomfortable situation.

"Yeah, you know me, always aiming for trashy elegance."

Cal loves that about her. Her unabated sense of humor. Her resilience. The quivering light of the candle illuminates her face. Even with tousled hair and a cut, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen or known. Outside and inside. Suddenly, he wonders whether he tells her that often enough.

"You are beautiful."

Gillian can not see the admiration in his face due to the dim light, but she can hear it in his voice, and she blushes. She doesn't know why, however, she is reminded of the weekend after they spent their first night together. The weekend Emily stayed with him, and she told Cal he had to wait for a repeat of their performance because she wanted him to spend time with Emily.

She was true to her word. They didn't meet. Instead, there were phone calls late at night, _heated_ phone calls. It still embarrasses her when she imagines what they said and moreover _did_ during those calls. Anyway, it was no substitute for actually feeling Cal. Not even close. It were only a couple of days, but she wanted him so bad it was bordering on pathetic, and it was so hard to wait. When they came to work on Monday, he didn't even have to ask. It wasn't the only _inappropriate encounter_ they had in the office until now. Yet, it was the quickest, hardest sex she'd ever had in her whole life. It definitely was an office _shag_, no use to sugarcoat it. Gillian blushes even more.

"Now, that thought," Cal says, pointing at her face. "Remember that when I'll put you to bed in a moment."

"I just thought that I probably don't look very beautiful considering the blood and all," she tries to play it down, only to think better of it and correct herself. "Actually, I thought of the day after that weekend you spent with Emily. You know when we..."

"I know," he interrupts her, stroking her jawline. "Think I could ever forget that? You were so beautiful that day, and you are beautiful now, deserve to be told that you are every day."

This time, Gillian doesn't blush but smiles at him in response, studying him intensely at the same time. It always amazes her how fast Cal is able to switch back and forth between banter and seriousness. Something changes in the air between them because there are other confessions waiting to be made. For a brief moment, he holds her gaze, and she thinks he will say it, but then Cal takes the wet towel he prepared to clean her wound.

"This may hurt a little," he deflects, carefully wiping the dried blood on her face away. Fortunately, the cut is not as deep as it looked at first sight although it will probably give her pain in the next few days. "It's not bleeding anymore. Think a patch will do."

Yes, it hurts a little, or actually, more that just a little. However, the pain the wound causes her is negligible; it's Cal's avoidance play that really hurts. Gillian feels disappointment wash over her. Why won't he say it? If he can't say it in a moment like this, what does it take to make him admit that he loves her? Should she address it? If she asked him whether he loved her, he would say it; she is dead certain about that because she sees his love for her in his face and hears it in his voice. But she never was the type of woman to force a man into a love confession, and she is not about to start now. Not even with him, no matter how much she is longing for him to say it.

They remain silent while Cal is taking care of her wound. When he puts the towel back on the table and applies the plaster, Gillian is fixated on the blood on the towel. Ever since Claire was killed, she can't stomach the sight of blood, especially on herself. It will pass eventually; she knows that. For now, though, it still takes more time. She flinches and looks away.

"Sorry, luv, did I hurt you?" Cal takes off his hands.

"No," she assures him, aware of the irony that it is true but a lie at the same time depending on the kind of hurt. Anyhow, since they are not talking about the kind of hurt she doesn't want to address, there is only one possible answer. "It's just... After Claire's death... I just don't deal with the sight of blood so well at the moment."

Cal pushes the towel out of her field of vision, then hugs and squeezes her, indulging in feeling Gillian's cold, yet smooth, skin despite the situation. He took off his wet coat; his shirt is still wet but has started to dry due to his body heat, and she snuggles into him, trying to keep warm. They really should get into bed – without any ulterior motives. When he feels Gillian breathe regularly, though, Cal is reminded another time of the moment he saw the branch fall and realized he wouldn't make it in time to save her.

"All I could think of when I saw the branch hit you was that I didn't even apologize," he mumbles into her hair.

Gillian leans back to look at him. "Apologize for what? You mean last night? You did apologize for your proprietary behavior."

"Yes, I did," he growls, aware that she obviously accepted his taut _I'm sorry_ as a proper apology. "But I didn't apologize for my double standards, and I took what I wanted."

There is a brief pause before she asks quietly, "You think you have to apologize because you made love to me?"

His contrite gaze sets her teeth on edge. "Maybe I pushed you too hard to let me do what I wanted," Cal confesses.

Gillian takes hold of one of his hands.

"I'm not sure what is going on right now, Cal, but this is nonsense. I wanted it as much as you did, and you know that. Besides, why do you think I decided to come over tonight even if I still was mad at you? You didn't push me to do that. It's because I want to be with you. All the time. Perhaps I ridicule myself when I admit it, but that's what I want. That's what I _need_. I need to be with you. I...," she stops short of saying that she loves him although she is quite sure he knows it by now, anyway. "Your double standards, however, are a completely different matter," she continues. "But please only apologize if you intend to do something about it and change your behavior. I loathe apologies that are just lip service."

Albeit sitting on a chair, Cal manages to sway in his typical fashion even more than usual. His body language and facial expression tell Gillian that the subject is bothering him. Then he leans forward, still holding on to her hand.

"I apologize for setting different standards for you and myself," he says with a sincerity she has never heard in his voice before. "And I'll try, and that's a promise, not to do that any longer. No more double standards. But...," Cal adds, looking at her in an unconfident, vulnerable way that makes Gillian almost feel bad for him, "...knowing me a bit, I mean, _you and I_ knowing me a bit, I'll probably fail from time to time. So, think I can have a carte blanche for at least some failure?"

Gillian has to smile against her will. He knows how to charm her. This is too serious, though, to let him take the easy way out.

"No," she answers. "No carte blanche. If you fail, and you better make sure this will be an exception and not the rule, you'll have to try harder. I don't want to be taken for granted."

_I loathe apologies that are just lip service. I don't want to be taken for granted._ Cal can almost hear Gillian say those lines years ago in another life. A life with her ex-husband who apologized again and again for choosing drugs over her and who took it for granted that she would stay with him, anyway. No wonder that this is so important to her.

"OK, no carte blanche," he agrees. "Even if you're really challenging me here. But you're worth it." They both smile. "One more thing though. Never taking you for granted, Gill. Never did."

Some months ago, she would have snorted in response because there definitely were times when he took her for granted and treated her badly, but they talked about that and, again, he apologized and has stuck by his word. Accordingly, she knows that what he tells her here and now is the truth and just nods.

"Thank you."

Cal leans forward even more to give Gillian a little peck on her forehead right next to her cut. When he feels her cold skin against his lips, he is reminded of her state of undressing and that she has to be freezing. It is much too cold to sit here wearing nothing but bra and skirt.

"I think now is the right time to get to bed and do a little warm-up," he states, unable to suppress a grin.

"Why does everything you say has to be laced with innuendo?"

In spite of her cold skin, her velvety voice is teasing, a foretaste of whispered words in the dark. Gillian knows that this tone of her voice turns him on albeit she highly doubts that her head wound will allow them to do more than talking tonight.

"It isn't," Cal answers, wondering whether she is able to see his dilated pupils in the dim light. "Only when I'm talking to you."

* * *

The storm has calmed down somewhat, but the power is still off. They took the candles to Cal's bedroom and got to bed with the intention to snuggle up to each other and fall asleep, but then Cal started talking about making her feel better. They stopped talking so that he could suit the action to the word, and he kept his promise and actually made her feel better, much better indeed, save that her headache is worse now.

"This time, you have to apologize for pushing me too hard to let you make love to me. My headache is killing me," Gillian complains.

"So, you say, I didn't make you feel good?" Cal claims innocence.

"I didn't say that." She stretches herself to kiss his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. "I'd never say that."

"Sorry, luv," he mumbles, anyway, pulling her even closer and kissing the top of her head. And suddenly, it's there on the tip of his tongue. All he has to do is open his mouth and set the words free. "You know that I love you, don't you?"

Gillian freezes in his arms and sits up slowly. He sees the boundless joy in her face because of his declaration, but there is something else.

"Oh no," she says, shaking her head. "Not like this. You can't say that for the first time and not look at me. Say it again."

"I love you," Cal repeats without hesitation. She is right; this feels so much better, saying it to her while she is looking at him _like this_.

"I like the sound of that," Gillian says hoarsely, tearing up. "One could almost say I love it." She swallows. They both know she is trying to work up the courage to tell him the same.

Cal strokes her arm, drawing lazy circles on her skin that has eventually gotten warm. "Look, Gill, you don't have to say it. I know that you..."

She puts her fingers against his lips to interrupt him. "I want to say it, and I want you to look at me just as I looked at you." She swallows again. "A few weeks ago, I thought I'd never say that to a man again, but here we are, and I love you, Cal." Gillian tears up some more. "I love you." Now, that she said it, she doesn't seem to be able to stop.

He pulls her back in his arms, and they kiss. Cal tastes the salt of her tears, her soft lips and simply her.

"Now we got that out of the way, maybe your headache will get better," he says, feeling Gillian's body vibrate when she chuckles.

"Maybe you'll have to repeat it now and then," she mutters drowsily.

It doesn't take long until Gillian has fallen asleep in Cal's arms despite the tumultuous day that included being knocked out by a branch, a heart-to-heart conversation and love confessions, let alone her laceration and headache.

There is one thing Gillian Foster doesn't know about Cal Lightman. He told many women that he was _in love_ with them but before he told Gillian just moments ago, he only told one woman that he _loved_ her. His ex-wife. Zoe. For Cal Lightman, the declaration of love means forever (if it works out as planned, but that's what second chances are for, aren't they?).

So, there's another thing Gillian doesn't know as yet. There is a ring in his nightstand; he intends to propose to her soon. Something tells him that he knows her answer even if she for sure doesn't expect something like that. Not that soon, anyway. But why wait? What for? After all, he hates her last name that constantly reminds him of her ex-husband, and perhaps she will agree to change it. _Gillian Lightman._ Cal likes the sound of that. He will learn to be less possessive; most likely he will fail, and then he will try again. For the rest of their lives.

For tonight, though, Cal only plans to keep her warm and safe.

* * *

Life is not made of _what ifs_. Life is yes or no, do or omit, win or lose. Life is never maybe. _Maybe_ is a life on hold. A life that is waiting to be lived.

There are still a lot of _what ifs_ in Cal's and Gillian's life. The biggest of all being what if this doesn't work no matter how hard they try? Then again, what if it does? There was no right moment. They took the risk, anyway, and stopped pretending. It was painful and cathartic, but moreover it was worth it.

_Yes or no, do or omit, win or lose._ That's all there is. It's no use to keep waiting for the right moment. There will never be the right moment. The moment you decide to take the risk and stop pretending _is_ the right moment.

* * *

**The end**

**A/N 2:** I'm completely prepared for your insults because I announced their wedding (or at least his proposal) but ended the story here. Believe me, though, when I tell you that I can't write that. I'm just not good at writing (overly) romantic stuff. So, their love confessions and the glimpse at their future are as romantic as I'm able to be/write (at least for now). Yet, I wanted to give you the prospect that there will be a "happily ever after" for Cal and Gillian.

Despite being a story about fictional characters, writing this story was very personal, especially the first and last part about what ifs and taking chances. It's interesting, how writing in one way or another always reflects real life (although often on a subconscious level). And because some of you asked: Yes, I intend to write more LTM/Callian stories and will do that as long as the ideas keep popping up in my head and my muse is cooperating.

That being said, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support, for reading this story in the first place but even more for sharing your thoughts with me and listening to my ramblings. Of course, I'd really like to know what you think about this last chapter.

Love you, guys and the LTM fandom. Take care, Cee


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